Within a forest in a glade,
Is Nature's finest green brocade,
It's nestled by a secret stream,
Inside the mirror of a dream.

If I should pause, to change direction,
Go to that place of soft reflection,
To sit beneath a sylvan bower,
Some dappled, sun splashed, shady hour,


A sacred glen, where Nature's free,
And shadows weave a tracery,
That laces through this hidden dell,
Where is that place? - I shall not tell.

In this green forest filled with trees,
Birds singing in their canopies,
Life is filled with extant power,
From trembling leaf to tip of flower,

Sun shining on a cloudless day,
Give me peace from the world's dismay,
To think a while in solitude,
An unspoiled place of rectitude,

I wish now for some sweet release,
And hope this song may never cease,
Within that wild and ancient glade,
Where lyrebirds sing in serenade,

In every leaf of every branch,
A gentle breeze will make them dance,
It's nestled by a secret stream,
My blissful sweet poetic dream.




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