Farmlet Idyll

There is something very pleasant,
In the country greeting you.
When you wake up in the morning,
And the ground is wet with dew.

The birds are early risers,
The morning chorus new,
As the dawn is gently breaking,
Waking me and you.

The idyll Homer wrote of,
Of  Ithaca renewed,
A home to Odysseus,
Amidst Cerulean blue.

The farmlets always with us,
As we spend a year or two,
Enjoying a rich bounty,
Until our lives are through.

A great example of bad rhymed poetry. I'm not sure where that came from.

DK

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