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Thank-You
Rick Wakeman
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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For all the first sweet flushings of the spring
The greening earth, the tender heavenly blue
The rich brown furrows gaping for the seed
For all thy grace in bursting bud and leaf
For hedgerows sweet with hawthorn and wild rose
For meadows spread with gold and gemmed with stars
For every tint of every tiniest flower
For every daisy smiling to the sun
For every bird that builds in joyish hope
For every lamb that frisks beside its dam
For every leaf that rustles in the wind
For spiring poplar and for spreading oak
For queenly birch and lofty swaying elm
For the great cedar's benedictory grace
For earth's ten thousand fragrant incenses
Sweet altar-guests from leaf and fruit and flower
For ripening summer and the harvesting
For all the rich autumnal glory spread
The flaming pageant of the ripening woods
The fiery gorse, the heather-purpled hills
The rustling leaves that fly before the wind
And lie below the hedgerows whispering
The meadows silver-white with hoary dew
The sheer delight of tasting once again
That first crisp breath of winter in the air
The pictured plain, the new white world without
The sparkling hedgerow's witchery of lace
The soft white flakes that fold the sleeping earth
The cold without, the cheerier warmth within
For all the glowing heart of Christmastide
We thank thee, Lord!
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