by Patience Worth
Ah, wee plumed, earth-brown brother,
Whose nest hangs damp at dawn;
Hast thou begun at day's fair break
To sing of Night's soft wooing?
The note of thy song of yesterday
Is but dying away,
A prisoner of the evening zephyr.
Why then carol to this day?
Art thou afraid thy brother will
Loose faith, and telleth thou of Him!
Who keeps thy swinging house so safe,
Though 'tis but a hair that bindeth?
Last updated January 14, 2019