The Wanders Of The Woodlands Graces Poem by Liberty Anstead

As I walk my route, the woodlands sing,
With none but one broken wing,
Of poachers, hunters that do cause,
The breakings of their beauty pause.

The tall trees, great and proud,
Boast to its loyal croud
Of golden daffodills that sing in the breeze,
Echoing the song of the lonely trees.

I envy the woodlands beauty song,
As I walk along,
Their relms of wanders, heaven on earth,
As I watch new trees rebirth.

As I walk my route, the woodlands sing,
With none but one broken wing,
Of poachers, hunters that do cause,
The breakings of their lowly pause.