The Triumph of the Songs
'Til the end my neighbor,
Sang the sparrow in the early morning,
On the crest of newly fallen snow,
To which, I returned,
I bid thee humble farewell,
'Til spring, when your songs shall enlighten the world in its glorious harmony once more,
The sparrow flew this morning,
Amongst the spring's thaw,
His sweet tunes could be heard throughout the world,
Greeting the spring in harmonic bliss one more.
Copyright © R. M. Eichmiller | Year Posted 2014
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