Explore "The Robin" by Virna Sheard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Little brown brother, up in the apple tree, / High on its blossom-rimmed branches aswing, / Here where I listen earth-bound, it seems to me / You are the voice of the spring.
Herald of Hope to the sad and faint-hearted, / Piper the gold of the world cannot pay, / Up from the limbo of things long departed / Memories you bring me to-day.
You are the echo of songs that are over, / You are the promise of songs that will come, / You know the music, oh, light-winged rover, / Sealed in the souls of the dumb.
All of the past that we wearily sigh for, / All of the future for which our hearts long, / All Love would live for, and all Love would die for / Wordless, you weave in a song.
Little brown brother, up in the apple tree, / My spirit answers each note that you sing, / And while I listen -- earth-bound -- it seems to me / You are the voice of the spring.