THE GARDEN
Golden feathers trace a path,
Across an azure sky,
Bold crimson peaks support the vault,
Where Earthly angels fly.
The morning dew drops glisten,
Over mighty floral fields,
And lap at rays of sunshine,
That our golden day-star yields.
Here, tufts of fluffy clouds that form,
From mighty waves below,
Hold God's palette majestically,
With brilliant, sweeping bow.
The pine trees hum a windy tune,
For those beneath to hear,
And songbirds singing in her boughs,
Bring music to the ear.
Can mortals ever comprehend,
What Heaven's walls contain,
Or fathoms Eden's beauty,
From the visons that remain?