I hear the birds come greet me in my morning,  They sing the songs of love in tongues of ages past,  And all the while a vision is unfolding,  The Moorhen pipes at me, "don't sleep the day away".  And so with cautious steps I tread  a measured path through vale and rook,  and many signs you'd want to take me with you.  And I go down to the Landing,  Heron's Flood flows on storm-clothed  As the harbour lights guide the wanderers home.  I see the sun come greet me in his dawning,  He holds the seed of life within his aged hands.  And, in the sky, a vast procession streaming,  Royal banners held aloft to mark the halcyon time.  And so I walk in meads below,  amongst the springs and weevil-gall,  in myriad throngs the grass will take me with you.  And I climb up to the Hawk's Throne,  Cragshorn lies at Umbrian  and the marram-slopes span the sapient sky.  I feel the night come bidding me his greeting,  He draws a glowing veil upon a sleepy world.  And in the sky the stars roll through the heavens,  below, the new-hatched dove stares wondrously above.  And so to Esma I am come  to forge a passageway through time  and all, too soon, you'd come to take me with you.  And I strike north to the veldt-plains,  Dorn Ridge melts in snow-gold.  As the Moorhen  pipes the pinkery moon.  Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you  Birdsong, so sweetly, hark they're calling you.