And I sit on my own small limb,
The soaring heights beyond my ken,
Quietly I perch on the branch so narrow,
Reminded again: I am only a sparrow.
I look again at the King aloft,
But, to me, his visage is soft;
Though to the world he is harsh and strong,
I am sure that they are wrong.
The King, you see, has a kindly side;
His love for all is a beautiful sight;
It will inspire me to the end;
For, you see, he is my friend.
To be loved by one of such grand design;
Is the greatest honor of any kind;
So, when I think my life is poor;
In my heart, with the eagle I soar.
William P. Green
September 2, 1996
(c) 1996