It Is Not Hard To Imagine

It is not hard to imagine as some are known to say In his flights of fancy the places he grew up in he visits every day Above the silent valley a musical speck in the sky The small brown lark is caroling as towards the clouds he does fly The great beauty of Nature he first grew to enjoy In Brittany far north of this Land where he lived as a boy Now in his early fifties his hair is silver gray Yet in fancy home fields from him are not far away Though the past is long behind him in the forever gone Of where he grew into manhood the memories living on The wanderlust was in him he left on a balmy day Upon his great life's journey in the pleasant month of May The wander bug was in him some of the bigger World he see The last time he saw the home fields was in nineteen eighty three.