Oftentimes our dreams are forming
Where the winds and waters sing;
Where the rugged trails are winding
Through a meadow to a spring
Rushing from a snow-capped mountain;
Warbling with a passing breeze;
Rippling rhythms toward a fountain
Framed in swaying willow trees;
Far from all the crash and tumble
Of a busy city street.
With our spirits high but humble,
While we stroll at Nature's feet,
Let her music charm and cheer us
Till the heart can understand
That a Father's love is near us
In the beauty of the land.
~ Bessie Trull Law
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