Through blowing leaves and restless wind
The starling sounds her call,
And through the red-gold, slender trees
The sparrow chirps and sings.
Over stream and under branch
In the deep midst of fall,
Triumphantly the eagle cries
As high above it wings.
In sparkling mists of glorious rain,
In spurts of rainbow light,
The pounding, roaring waterfall
Drowns out the soft songbird.
Across the path, damp with wet leaves,
Which leads on, out of sight,
Are songs unsung, music that will
Forever be unheard.
Atop the distant mountains grey,
Above their snowy peaks,
The Sun, arrayed by floating clouds,
Sends down pale rays of gold,
Casts shadows on the forest floor
As on and on it seeks,
Shining over beeches tall,
And weeping willows old.
The blue-grey spruce spreads wide its arms,
Against the clouded sky,
A silver swan swims gracefully,
The river flows along.
The mighty falls are echoing,
The trees whisper and sigh.
Through opalescent silvery mists,
The birds break into song.
The egret white stands lonely now
Perched on a mossy stone,
He sounds his warbling, mournful call
Above the starling’s cries.
The sunny glade is silent now,
Remote, far off, alone.
Save for the rumbling waterfall,
So still and hushed it lies.
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