When the white eagle of the north is flying overhead,
And the browns, reds and golds of Autumn lie in the gutter dead.
Remember then the summer birds with wings of fire flaying,
Come to witness Springs new hope, born of leaves decaying.
As new life will come from death, love will come at leisure,
Love of love, love of life, and giving without measure,
Gives in return, the wondrous yearn, of a promise almost seen.
Live hand in hand, and together we'll stand.......
On the threshold of a dream.

Moody Blues.