Robin Poem by Ina D. Coolbrith

Robin sang a song for me
Once upon a day,
Never throat of Robin piped
Bonnier roundelay!

Robin built a home for him
In the apple-boughs;
There with wife and family
Kept he merry house.

But my Robin, overseas,
Where is song of his?
When that golden rapture breaks
The long silences?

O my lonely walls, no more
Glorious with sound!
Broken roof and rafter, mine,
Prone upon the ground!

What to me the nested tree,
Linnet, lark and wren?
Song that with my Robin dies
Never wakes again!