Whispers of the English Hare
In fields of green, where silence reigns,
Where morning dew adorns the plains,
There hops a creature, swift and light,
A hare that dances through the light.
Its fur as soft as morning mist,
Its eyes a gleam, where dreams persist,
In meadows vast, it finds its grace,
In every bound, a gentle chase.
Oh, English hare, with ears so keen,
Your presence felt, though rarely seen,
In twilight's hush, you roam the glen,
A fleeting glimpse, then gone again.
With every leap, a whispered tale,
Of moonlit nights and secret trails,
Of ancient woods and starlit skies,
Where magic dwells and mystery lies.
So let us pause and heed the call,
Of nature's song, the hare's ballet,
For in its dance, we find our own,
A rhythm to guide us, ever known.
In fields of green, where dreams take flight,
The English hare, a symbol bright,
Of freedom's joy and nature's art,
Forever dancing in our heart.