As I walk Ebbie in two poo park this Easter

As I walk Ebbie in two poo park, tis Easter

Beneath a pale and waking springtime sky,
The bells speak soft of something long ago,
Where a tall oak let whispered meanings lie
In winds that only patient hearts may know.

A lamb of light moves gently through the air,
And morning blooms with grace both old and new,
As hope returns in ways both strange and fair—
An Easter dawn the soul remembers true.