Saturday, February 16, 2013

Spring sprung

They say the green, green grass that grows
Is part of that which heaven knows
The dabbled dew that dribbles down
Jewels upon that Godly crown

The heads that shade in gusty winds
Spreads sees to grow and honor Him
The leaves that luster with the dawn
bend reverently and revere His song

He sings, my dear, of little things
Of grass’ green fluttering wings
He sings from seeds to sprouting stakes
He even sings of what seem mistakes
And His song is one so very old
That sings life out from the depths of cold

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