Oh, where dost thou fly, little bird, little bird

Oh, where dost thou fly, little bird, little bird?
Over forest and mountain and meadow.
Though thy wings may be small
Yet thy soul is still strong
To outpace even Winter’s dark shadow.

Oh, what is thy song, little bird, little bird?
‘Tis a call of delight to thy fellows.
And though all may be weary
Thy voice lingers on
To refresh as the stormy wind billows.

Oh, where is thy home, little bird, little bird?
High above, where I soar in the Heavens.
With the freedom of flight
And the fancy of song—
Though I may not rest here
And I cannot stay long
Yet from tree, nest, or roof,
To the sky I am drawn
To find peace in my God-given haven.

copyright © Anneliese M. Kvamme