How I love the moss thick covered rocks
How I love the moving heather in the fields~
How I love so the blossom heavy on the trees
And the mass of wheat almost ready for the yield~
How I love so the distant purple mountains
And the weighted tree with snow~
The highest babbling mountain fed brooks
How I love so the spring breezes when they gently blow~
The very tallest and widest and oldest trees
That seem in their way to defy time~
The very oldest of vines that entwine and caress them
And travel away up to the very tops in rhyme~
How I do love the oldest beautiful gardens
And all the older gardens around~
How I love the smallest birds in flock
As they fly in perfect harmony and unity far above the ground~
How I love so watching wild mother ducks with their young
Such devotion and love they do show~
How I love the very thought of peace upon earth
However this it seems to be a dream I'll never know~