Song Of Freedom

The grass is fresh and sweet
Beneath my weary head,
And yet I would not trade it
For the softest feather bed.

Iíd rather be out here
With nature all around,
And Iím glad to make my bed
On the cool and solid ground.

To wake up with the birds
In morningís early light,
Or wonder at the beauty
Of a million stars at night.

Drink the clear, cool water
Of a little meadow stream;
And to know that I am free
To follow all my dreams.

© Fay Herridge
Published in Newfoundland Herald, Aug 1987


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