Explore "A September Robin" by Dinah Mulock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
MY eyes are full, my silent heart is stirred, / Amid these days so bright / Of ceaseless warmth and light; / Summer that will not die, / Autumn, without one sigh / O'er sweet hours passing by -- / Cometh that tender note / Out of thy tiny throat, / Like grief, or love, insisting to be heard, / O little plaintive bird!
No need of word / Well know I all your tale -- forgotten bird! / Soon you and I together / Must face the winter weather, / Remembering how we sung / Our primrose fields among, / In days when life was young; / Now, all is growing old, / And the warm earth's a-cold, / Still, with brave heart we'll sing on, little bird, / Sing only. Not one word.