BIRDSONG
He doesn'tknow the world a! all
rr, his n^ Jlrd doesn. go out
Wno
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Hc doesn'r knoll. what blrds know best
Nor what I wrnt to sing about,
That the world is fu1l of lovcliness
When dcwdrops sparklein the grass
And earth's aflood with morning light,
A blackbird sings upon a bush
To greer rhe dawning after night
Then I know hon' frne it is ro live
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Hev, try to open up your hcart
To beaury;go ro thc woods sonrcday
And wcrvc a wrcath ofmcmory thcrc.
Then if the tearsobscurevour \!rv
You'll knorv horv sonderful it is
To be alive.
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