Anthony Phillips Birdsong
I hear the birds come greet me in my morning, They sing the songs of love in tongues of ages past, And all the while a vision is unfolding, The Moorhen pipes at me, "don't sleep the day away". And so with cautious steps I tread a measured path through vale and rook, and many signs you'd want to take me with you. And I go down to the Landing, Heron's Flood flows on storm-clothed As the harbour lights guide the wanderers home. I see the sun come greet me in his dawning, He holds the seed of life within his aged hands. And, in the sky, a vast procession streaming, Royal banners held aloft to mark the halcyon time. And so I walk in meads below, amongst the springs and weevil-gall, in myriad throngs the grass will take me with you. And I climb up to the Hawk's Throne, Cragshorn lies at Umbrian and the marram-slopes span the sapient sky. I feel the night come bidding me his greeting, He draws a glowing veil upon a sleepy world. And in the sky the stars roll through the heavens, below, the new-hatched dove stares wondrously above. And so to Esma I am come to forge a passageway through time and all, too soon, you'd come to take me with you. And I strike north to the veldt-plains, Dorn Ridge melts in snow-gold. As the Moorhen pipes the pinkery moon. Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you Birdsong, so sweetly, hark they're calling you.
