listening to chant

[fledgist]

no sort of magic fills the evening air
wonder has abandoned all this space
nature could show no plainer a face

and yet the world and life seem fair
there's in each one a certain grace
no sort of magic fills the evening air

the world we have now seems quite bare
we move at slower than a walking pace
and none of us is in our proper place
no sort of magic fills the evening air