Clouds float today above the hay,
God’s handiwork so high above.
What skillful art could mend this heart,
or fill each beat with tender love.
Sweet natures bed to lay my head,
to draw each breath upon your chest.
What springtime joy could tame this boy,
and find this weary soul a rest.
Birds in their dance and perfect stance,
to give me peace and rest me slow.
Your beauty ought to still each thought,
ignite my spirit, watch me glow.