Like the whispering of the trees,
Blown by soft summer breeze
Or the swallow flying on high
Somersaulting the azure sky,
The soul sings in melodic rhapsody,
Ascending the mountains
In their majesty,
Ever flying, ever climbing
Celebrating the joy of life,
With spirit effervescing
Counting all life's blessings
From the smile of new born babe
Until the finality of the grave
Having experienced life's zest
Embracing the soul's eternal rest. By I Platt
Thornton Avenue,
Bolton
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
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