The World's Music

The world's a very happy place,

Where every child may dance and sing,

and always have a siniling face,

and never sulk for anything.

I waken when the morning's come,

And feel the air and light alive

with strange sweet music like the hum

Of bees about their busy hive.

The linnets play among the leaves

At hide-and-seek, and chirp and sing;

While, flashing to and from the eaves,

The swallows twitter on the wing.

And twigs that shake, and boughs that sway,

And tall old trees you cannot climb,

And winds that come, but cannot stay,

Are singing gayly all the time.

From dawn to dark the old millwheel

Makes music, going round and round;

And, dusty white with flour and meal,

The miller whistles to its sound.

The brook that flows beside the mill,

As happy as a brook can be,

Goes singing its old song until

It learns the singing of the sea.

For every wave upon the sands

Sings songs you never tire to hear,

Of laden ships from sunny lands

Where it is summer all the year.

And if you listen to the rain

Where leaves and birds and bees are dumb,

You hear it pattering on the pane

Like Andrew beating on his drum.

The coals beneath the kettle croon,

And clap their hands and dance in glee;

And even the kettle hums a tune

To tell you when it's time for tea.

The world is such a happy place

That children, whether big or small,

May always have a smiling face

And never, never sulk at all.

Gabriel Setoun