THE ROBIN

When up aloft

I fly and fly

I see in pools

The shining sky

And a happy bird

Am I am I

When I descend

Toward the brink

I stand and look

And stop and drink

And bathe my wings

And chink and prink

When winter frost

Makes earth as steel

I search and search

But find no meal

And most unhappy

Then I feel

But when it lasts

And snows still fall

I get to feel

No grief at all

For I turn to a cold stiff

Feather ball !

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s