So Gentle Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

So gentle the sound of the wind in the treetops,
Carry me far through the seasons ahead,
That are awaiting the autumn annd winter,
The cold of the snowfalls and sunsets of red.
I belong to this precious land
Its green majestic hills,
Which rise above me far and wide
And try to touch the sky.

So gentle the voice that is calling me onward,
To find and discover what's hidden to me,
I feel such pleasure at home in surroundings,
So rich is the beauty its wonders to see.
I belong to this precious land
Its fields and pastures grow,
And stretch before me far and wide
To where its treasures lie.

So gentle the stream as it flows down the valley,
Winding meanders through boulder and stone,
So pure are its waters the soul of the country,
And while it is with me I'm never alone.
I belong to this precious land
And all its scenery,
Its glories reach so far and wide
And they shall never die.