Far, far away,
In clouds of blue
And every hue—
I flit my wing
And sing and sing!”
Then came another voice:
“I’m so glad, dear little friend,
My trouble now is at an end;
’Twas indeed my task of love
To turn you to a burnished dove.”
Far, far away,
In clouds of blue
And every hue—
I flit my wing
And sing and sing!”
Then came another voice:
“I’m so glad, dear little friend,
My trouble now is at an end;
’Twas indeed my task of love
To turn you to a burnished dove.”