The boy's song of the archer
Michael Brough
With arrow, with bow,
through mountain and valley,
comes marching the archer,
early in the morning rays.
Just as in the realm of the breezes,
the king is the kite,
so, through mountains and gorges
the archer reigns free.
The wide-open spaces belong to him;
whatever his shaft reaches,
that is his prey:
whether is crawls or flies.