Song of the Valley

I have heard of a valley that lies
In the depths of some innocent shade,
It is bright as the sun in the skies,
And the fruits of all life there are laid;
The lightest of breezes that flow,
And I long for the vale of the vale.

They tell of the streams that are fed
By the dew of a golden-earth flower,
And while their fine breath ’tis said
Comes the shade from the bright cursed bower —
O sweet be the breeze and wonderful peace
In hearing the bees burst their shroud.

— James Collinson

• James Collinson