Precious Bird, Forlorn Man
Precious Bird
Oh dainty robin, clothed in red and grey,
Singing to this winter from the tree,
All thy happiness to fill the day,
Bringing hope where frost wouldst sadden me.
I am lonely in my silent walk,
Lost in thoughts of death and sure demise,
But my heart is merry with thy talk,
Life returning to my tired eyes.
Precious bird, how handsome is thy voice!
Trilling melodies as pure as sun,
Thee — the muse and magic of my choice,
In your merriment my heart is won.
Forlorn Man
I see thee in the shadows on the snow,
With thy heavy heart and footstep slow,
Scarlet for my vest to catch thine eye,
Set against the heavy granite sky.
This, my song, I gift unto thine ear,
Melody to conquer loss and fear,
Singing of the roots beneath the frost,
Telling thee that light is never lost.
Go thee hence, through winter’s quiet hall,
Heartened by the sweetness of my call,
Though the world is draped in deathly grey,
This, my song, shall cheer thy lonely way.
adamdaniel 