This is the morning of the year,
With fresh, pink painted sunrise,
And dewdrops like a fairy"s tear
To make each morn a lovely prize.
Lie down upon the pulsing ground
Beneath a lacy tree.
Look up and up until you"ve found
The sky....blue as can be.
Watch a bird on lazy wing
Soaring far above
Listen to the crickets sing
Of spring.... of joy.... of love.
