Symphony

In the morning when I rise,
darkness lies along the road;
and from outside my door,
comes the croaking of a toad
as it crawls along the path,
towards the moonlit fields.
While in a nearby belfry,
a lonely church bell peals.
When the sun begins to creep
slowly up the garden wall,
and darkness fades away,
I hear the skylark call
as deep within the forest,
all the other birds awake
and join the chorus of the dawn,
and the herald of daybreak.
There in the shaded fen
a doe with cautious eye
dips her head to drink the dew,
as she hears a vixen cry.