When the white eagle of the North is flying overhead,
And the browns, reds and golds of autumn lye in the
gutter dead.
Remember then the summer birds with wings of fire
flame,
Come to witness springs new hope, born of leaves
decaying.
And as new life will come from death,
Love will come at leisure.
Love of love, love of life and giving without measure,
Gives in return a wonderous yearn for promise almost
seen.
Live hand in hand and together we'll stand,
On the threshold of a dream.

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