I HOLD the finest picture-books
Are woods an' fields an' runnin' brooks;
An' when the month o' May has done
Her paintin', an' the mornin' sun
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There is no hint of hate or strife;
The woods display the joy of life,
An' answer with a silence fine
The scoffer's jeer at power divine. in the olden days the world was still in order. tony
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There is no hint of hate or strife; The woods display the joy of life, An' answer with a silence fine The scoffer's jeer at power divine. in the olden days the world was still in order. tony