Highest Praise

Warblers abound
at my green mountain dwelling.
Notes trilling out of
little breasts swelling.
Calling to far off
neighboring fellows,
Singing as though they are
tiny wind bellows. All of their songs are in the
key Major,
Praising in trills their LORD
and my Saviour.
Who, but in humans, are
unhappy singers,
In the animal kingdom
no sadness lingers. Joy exudes from
little hearts bursting
For gladness and thanks
and little souls thirsting
For God's great goodness,
as well, ample bounty—
Noting each sparrow's fall
numb'ring county by county. So warble on little patrons,
warm our hearts with your singing.
Thrill us and cause us
to praise with thanksgiving—
The Creator of all who saw fit
to make you
And bless this earth with your
wond'rous ballyhoo!

by Barbara Notestine Moulder

Other poems of BARBARA NOTESTINE MOULDER (1)

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