A day of rocking wind
Beneath a May-blue sky;
A loud-voiced robin dinned
The copse, haughtily high
On a maple’s green crown,
Its song, droplets thrown down.
Flung
like a cork on seas
The robin frankly shrilled,The tree without surcease
Quivered and the leaves thrilled
In shivers, flashing pale
Like flags thrashed in a gale.
At
once, a leaf, wind-thrown,
Enfurled that flame-chest rowd;Unfussed it hurled its moan
Like a corpse in a shroud
Stubborn to have its shout
Against the grave’s long drought.
Ah
redbreast, shrilly brave,
Would that your hothead song,Warming the air’s cold nave
Summer and autumn long,
Might soften winter snow
That the aconite glow.
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© May 2014
