Robin red

My Robin red I now see you,
On barren branch you neatly flew.
You danced across my wistful smile,
As Winter snow came all the while.

So long the wind it blew and blew,
Until the Spring released its dew,
And then, a song I rightly knew,
just there, oh yes, on mossy pew. . .

Summer is here, alive and new
I hear him near, so I pursue. . .
he's perched upon a wooden stile,
Such form and song, I am beguiled.

Now Autumn trees drop golden hue
across that path I walk anew,
and there on ev’ry single mile,
he sings to me his sweetest style.

For me he clears the fog that brews,
his fluting notes my ever muse.
You are my heart's eternal thread,
So I thank you, my Robin red.

.

Mr. Darcy
© 2021