One cannot see the light too many times,
Or weary of the dawn of blessed days,
Our hidden love, still deeper risen life,
Is overfull to breaking for display,
Forgetful soul come humbly to know,
The selfsame source of all that would here glow!

Unemployed behaviour at its finest,
Basking in the afternoon blaze,
Breeze just tucking underneath the shade,
A place where laughter is unshackled best.

Just to watch the sunset fall,
Isn't it beautiful that the day is done?
Can't you see this gift of time all wrapped up neat,
In such fervent descent into gold and mauve?
Painted tranquility just as Turner's Carthage.
In laughter and a wandering peal of giggles,
Cold breezes by the tufts of grass,
Innocent of the time that passed,
Come find the memories that
Huddle at the roots of fledgling trees.
In all this wholesome friendship found,
Confess that the day is done but He remains and
In His name we sought to find a friendship good and lovely.

Muddied shoes,
And mucky adventures clothe the morning,
I'm walking with some mighty men,
That is to say those clothed in righteous robes like mine,
Not of themselves but from our brother,
And in each passing day they grow like him,
So talking is great fun with them,
They like to tell and laugh and listen.