Singer of the Song

My sweet sojourn has sung the hum of song in wind.... For all the forest sings, beauteous ring most melodious on the wings of 'poor' creatures, feathered beings; thy speckled chatter to shade the dappled moss-bank, (so) silt on the fringes of bubbling brook, Always glory to the pledges of earth, with little nest-homes on the dimples of life.... how full the fields of melody-manna, the gossamer fattened worm, in early morn, grubs abound for fledgling mouths; To feed the future with tender sound, quick cries, chirp-warble proud; the robin clucks and red wing blackbird singer atop the boughs (prima-donna of sky) warble-wind chimes ---- and shooting 'pews!" (what kind news!) and often: 'mews!' The clouds shall lift and sun will come and fly to warmer climes; children upon the bright winds, as feathered Lords wide with diadem hymns, Perched on the cottage banks, the hills at thy back sing with new-earthy hues; the rainbow has found a home one mount to each, how gold glitters in the folds of lilting noon..... the lilies upon the land sway, The day is windswept from a lofty angel breath, to tether new-life ripe with melodies met; I have come in my druid garb, and meshed in the weave of worlds filled with God's smile; prophet of the wood..... (to fulfill as Wordsworth would) I welcome all to my school.... in the easy cool, and sit in shade ----- observe the warmth of the world, Christ has made me ----- a hope to smile with all of you; My strength is only as long as you all (shall sing with me!)