I am a fun one
to walk with and to dream
the little children follow me
out on the village green

we run through the clover
we churn up all the grass
and when the day is over
when all the summers pass

there will be a memory
as strong as autumn's chill
of little children laughing
while rolling down a hill

for something here is stirring
though what I cannot say
but I will have your answer
when I finally find my way

to the other side, Dear
it can't be all that hard
to learn some kind of truth, Love
with saintly disregard