Absorbed in my work this morning,
I hear several bars of music before my conciousness kicks in.
Outside, a Carolina Wren is singing its clear sweet song.
They are favorites of mine, these small happy birds,
hopping around with tails held high and springs in their feet.
Full of energy, they remind me of teenagers until I hear their opera voices,
rich and mature.
Today, the bird I hear is a male;
I find it perched on a branch,
singing its life melody.
After the bird is gone, I bend back over my desk,
the song still playing in my mind,
the song still playing in my mind,
and another like it:
This is my Father's world,
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their Maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
He shines in all that's fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass,
He speaks to me everywhere.
Maltbie D. Babcock
