The Song Of A Bird

It was not the music of the flute, Nor the clarinet, nor the trumpet, Nor that of a violin, guitar........the song of a bird, High, high above the branches of a tree, Eternal and blissful as it is Decked out in leafy gems, Glistening by sunshine, Looks at God all day and prays for the mankind, Stretches out leafy arms to serve as stage, From there pours forth softest melody of softer voice, A wonderful song, song of happy days, song of sad days, Song of life, song of death, song of peace and song of love. Song of God's name loveliest of them all thrills more; Sweetness of hymn, my ears could hear, My eyes could see, my nose could smell, my hands could touch, My legs could move with and on other senses casting magical spell. Are these ears, eyes, nose, hands and legs......mine? Music-gifted little star, how I wonder who you are, Chanting Krishna Krishna, Rama Rama round the year......