The leaves, the little birds, and I, The fleece clouds and the sweet, sweet sky, The pages singing as they ride Down there, down there where the river is wide -- Heigh-ho, what a day! What a lovely day! Even too lovely to hop and play With my sheep, Or sleep In the sun! And so I lie in the deep, deep grass And watch the pages as they pass, And sing to them as they to me Till they turn the bend by the poplar tree. And then -- O then, I sing right on To the leaves and the lambs and myself alone! For I think there must be Inside of me A bird! |