Glamour Poem by Jan Struther

The linnet is here, and the lark, and the yellowhammer,
And the thrush that sings so clear at the break of day.
The small brown birds are here: but the bright bird Glamour
Has opened his shining wings and flown away.
He lit on my hand for a while-I heard his singing,
That was like an ache and a flame, a dream and a star;
But now the sound grows faint; I can see him winging
Through the dark woods of the world, travelling far.
It is he that young man dare for and old men sigh for,
It is he that calls the sailors down to the sea,
It is he that women bear for and soldiers die for,
And where he has been comfort no more shall be.
Through the dark woods of the world I stumble on:
'Glamour, O bright bird Glamour, where have you gone?'