The woodcock to breed is back on the high ground
And the swallows above old fields are flying around
And the hawthorns cloaked in their white blooms of the May
When it is Autumn here it is Spring far away,
The skylark to sing from the bracken he rise
A musical speck as upwards he flies
Till in the gray clouds from sight he disappear
Yet his beautiful caroling i fancy i hear
Just thinking of Nature a thing to enjoy
I have loved her since i was a very young boy
In my visualizations the silver tongued rill
Is babbling on down the high field by the hill
White butterflies dance in the warm sun of day
When it is Autumn here it is Spring far away.
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