These little Songs,
Found here and there,
Floating in air
By forest and lea,
Or hill-side heather,
In houses and throngs,
Or down by the sea -
Have come together,
How, I can't tell:
But I know full well
No witty goose-wing
On an inkstand begot 'em;
Remember each place
And moment of grace,
In summer or spring,
Winter or autumn
By sun, moon, stars,
Or a coal in the bars,
In market or church,
Graveyard or dance,
When they came without search,
Were found as by chance.
A word, a line,
You may say are mine;
But the best in the songs,
Whatever it be,
To you, and to me,
And to no one belongs.
The best in the songs, Whatever it be, To you and to me, And to no one belongs. A beautiful life song. Thanks for sharing it here.
They come to us in the winds that blow From the songs of angels drifting in the blue And we are merely streams that flow Catching those words as they fall in tune......
Remember each place And moment of grace, In summer or spring, Winter or autumn By sun, moon, stars, Or a coal in the bars, In market or church, Graveyard or dance, Nice work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Life becomes an enriching experience when we celebrate every mood, every place and every season offered to us by mother nature. Every bit of it is a divine music and a celestial song. Thanks.