There's a nightingale singing from a tree in the woods
And his voice slices through the chilly air;
The silver coated fox stops and listens to the song
As she pokes her pretty nose out of her lair.
Winter In The Park
Between their chilly winter sheets
Of gentle mist and quiet rain,
The naked trees retire to sleep
Until Spring comes again.
Another place, another time
When the world was not possessed by man
And beast played but a minor part;
Evolution had not yet begun.
The winter night has tossed a shroud
Across the hills and fields and vales
And broods beneath its settling folds.
When will time erode my pain
And give me peace to live again
Without the sense of gradual death
That hampers each lung-breaking breath?
Dreams - dreams - dreams
Of faraway lands and faraway places,
Strange, foreign names and strange, foreign faces;
Dreams of the sea and dreams of the ocean