In the chill of a bright March morning the song sparrow wakes up the day,
In June the robin is carolling the maple at the first blush of dawn, it brings hope,
The wood or the hermit thrush pouring forth its golden notes, loves this time,
The vesper sparrow, sings to his love, with sweet passion, over the silent fields.
The mid-day jubilation of the purple finch in the orchard, sing, with a chickadee,
And its merry tone dissolve the last of a winters day join in with other voices,
Nature orders for all her worth, to go forward and behold her fantastic power,
On every hand there is mystery, ripening into clear knowledge, perpetual harvest.
It is during the period of nidification ever bird is seen at its very, lovely best,
It is a climax an annual experience, the fullness of joy, when it blooms, on this day,
Birds, intimidy, locked forgather, are more remarked, for responsibility of perpetuity,
While the young are sometimes very ammusing, pathetic, the case of the prairie-hen.
How long does a piecec of writind need to be? I m not going to change my words for you.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.Mary had a little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb.