The beauty of the trees;
the glory of the seas;
the songbirds soft cry;
the wide blue sky;
...
Rising from the willows come little bird cries;
their mother is gone off and away up in the sky.
They think they're forgotten and all alone;
to scratch out survival and shrink to the bone.
...
The Sun is like a wise and stooped old lady,
she raises up her golden head beneath the stars,
and each morning tends her garden shady.
...
There is something lovely
in a baby's little laugh.
There is something of beauty
in a duckling's tiny quack.
...