Lost in a beautiful garden that stretched far into the perfect turquoise horizon,
Amazed at the smells, the beauty with the breeze singing through blossomy trees
The cherry blossom danced in a light wind lifted it off boughs swirling in the air,
Sun shining through budding branches, shadows of mighty oak trees black on green
A haunting tune from the star in the meadows a nightingale sang to his loved one,
His song filled the air over water mead's nearby, and floated through great woods,
A trickling stream flowed with golden water running and leaping to a noble river,
Last years fallen crisp brown red leaves floated off on a journey to a noble river.
Listening to a nightingales opera warming the hardest heart it floats in the wind,
Then when it does not seem possible to hear a better sound the bird changes pitch,
While it sings sweetly the rest of the grasslands are silent, proud and respectful,
As no other voice can match the wonderful tune that rings through heaths and dales.
In the distance there were some landmarks that were familiar so now I was not lost,
I spotted a butcher-bird, cockchafer in the warm woods as I stood on spongy turf,
Saxifrage in the meadow as I walked out from the wood into brilliant May sunshine,
Far in the distance a horn sounded to tell workers their work was done and go home.