Mating Calls

It is not so much the song
Of the hump-backed whale, reaching
Through a hundred miles of sea
To his love that strikes us. We
Can be heard farther than he.

It is not the albatross
Either. With his strident voice
Promising the most tender
‘Always’ in tones of thunder.
Our vows may well go under.

Some kind of magpie keeps on
Singing, when his mate has gone,
Not only his notes but hers.
This moves us to pride and tears
That love should make us such bores.