Voice of the beloved

Down the Lancaster lane, before the sun was down
Before the day was done, while the summer still sings in the corner
I take a salutary walk every day
To hear the voice of the beloved.
The sun smiles on my face as I walk
My long arms and limbs becomes wings.
And I knew. Instead of walking I was flying
To hear the voice of the beloved.
In the leaves that rustle constantly
I hear the voice of the beloved.
In the mouths of the songbirds that pour honey and poems
I hear the voice of the beloved.
In the starry eyes of the lakes
I hear the voice of the beloved.
In the faces of young men and old men
And in the faces of those who are not yet born
I hear the voice of the beloved.