Classic Poem

Way out in the grove a little bird sings,
Out in the young, green trees,
Lilting and trilling with fluttering wings,
Out in the young, green trees.
He lilts and he tilts and he sways in the leaves,
For the sun is a-shine, and a gold fabric weaves,
And his throat bursts with song, and the blue air it cleaves,
Out in the young, green trees.

Way up in the sky sounds a great sweet song,
Oh, heart, in the blue, high sky;
He sings of our love, Oh, 'tis, sweet and long,
Oh, heart, in the blue, high sky.
All in the trees, a-flower and young,
All in the lore of the heart's quick tongue,
All in the joy of a love well sung,
Oh, heart, in the blue, high sky.