On a morning glory morning
of a honeysuckle day,
a country path was kind enough
to guide me on my way.

It showed me where the seamstresses
were sewing Queen Anne's lace,
a gown of woven ivory
she'd wear with regal grace.

It led me to a flow'ry field
where silver bells tuned up,
while practicing a wedding waltz
for flax and buttercup.

May apples nodded modestly
beneath their broad leaf's shade,
before the path wound round a bend
and took me to a glade.

I rested for a little while,
enjoying time alone,
then drawn by need for human warmth,
I asked for guidance home.

On a morning glory morning
of a honeysuckle day,
this country path was kind enough
to guide me on my way.