The Garden

In the garden of Truth

There dwells as bird

With feathers of a yellow gold

And all thru' the day

The sun he play upon his raiment gay

In the garden of Truth

There dwells as bird

With feathers of a silver pale

And all night long

The moon she shone upon her raiment warm

And all within the branches of this great oak tree

That some call the Tree of Life

And the wise men they come

And they rest upon the roots

And they hear the song.

And all within the branches of this great oak tree

That some call the Tree of Life

And the wisemen they come

To rest upon the roots

And they hear the song.