I walk the woodland path today
‘neath clouds hung heavy, low, and gray.
Some little squirrels were hard at play
along the woodland path today.
I listen while the robin sings
quite unaware the joy he brings
as from his tiny heart it springs.
It’s lovely when the robin sings.
The lazy brook, this perfect place,
so softly flows a slower pace.
While other waters rage and race,
there’s peace found in this perfect place.
I like the sound of rustling trees
as they embrace the chilling breeze,
and sense the leaves in silent pleas
as they cling to the rustling trees.
I claim this as my private park
and pledge this by the meadowlark,
and by a vixen’s warning bark
from somewhere in my private park.
I’ll ne’er forget this day so blessed
when I could be the forest’s guest.
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