When On A Summer's Morn I Wake, And Open My Two Eyes, Out To The Clear, Born-singing Rills My Bird-like Spirit Flies. To Hear The Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or Any Bird In Song; And Common Leaves That Hum All Day Without A Throat Or Tongue. And When Time Strikes The Hour For Sleep, Back In My Room Alone, My Heart Has Many A Sweet Bird's Song - And One That's All My Own.
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When On A Summer's Morn I Wake,
W. H. Davies
When On A Summer's Morn I Wake, And Open My Two Eyes, Out To The Clear, Born-singing Rills My Bird-like Spirit Flies. To Hear The Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or Any Bird In Song; And Common Leaves That Hum All Day Without A Throat Or Tongue. And When Time Strikes The Hour For Sleep, Back In My Room Alone, My Heart Has Many A Sweet Bird's Song - And One That's All My Own.
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