O' the blue bells are ringing,
The black birds are singing.
For peace is felt in every heart
And love in every waking hour.

O' they dance in the wind;
The lilies upon dewy ground,
And the fireflies of soft skin,
Singing the song of thousand voices.

O' they dance in the jungle;
The animals in their soft skin,
Alas! Mourning turns to hymns of mirth
In the day and the hours of the night.

The season is fresh and green,
The farm is alive and harvest vast;
The fruit, berries and grapes are sweet,
Sweet in the mouth; a satisfaction to the belly.

It brings joy to my heart and warmth to my bowels,
It took my breath away; a sigh to my lips,
Aye! I have seen a sweet thing;
A time to treasure beyond measure.

©Okunola Peace