gordies
"To Ramble No More"
Do hillside streams still sparkle
With sunrise of the morn
Do gentle hands still tingle
That glide ripe ears of corn
Is anticipation in the heart
At each un-ventured turn
Can the echoes of ones footsteps
Be heard on Autumns fern
Do the carpets of Spring bluebells
In imagination seem to ring
At the greeting of each morning
Do the meadow birds still sing
And do Winters clinging hoar frosts
Enhance the leafless trees
Can you sense a feel of freedom
In a gentle passing breeze..
With sunrise of the morn
Do gentle hands still tingle
That glide ripe ears of corn
Is anticipation in the heart
At each un-ventured turn
Can the echoes of ones footsteps
Be heard on Autumns fern
Do the carpets of Spring bluebells
In imagination seem to ring
At the greeting of each morning
Do the meadow birds still sing
And do Winters clinging hoar frosts
Enhance the leafless trees
Can you sense a feel of freedom
In a gentle passing breeze..
