The Pink Breasted Robin

A fairy out of fairyland, I flit
   On visits rare
Into your garden and your heart, to sit
   And charm you there.
Tiny and trusting, one brief hour I stay
   And then away.

You count me not amid your singing friends
   Of bush and bough;
But every little while I make amends.
   Behold me now,
Claiming attention with quaint little clicks,
   Like snapping sticks.

Your ear I may not charm with tuneful note,
   Yet do my best
To charm your eye. Behold my ebon coat,
   My burning breast!
Straight out of elfland surely. Elfin too
   All things I do.

They say my coming brings good luck to men,
   On fragile wings
I am no sooner here than gone again,
   Like all good things --
Gone with my trustful air, my curious clicks,
   Like snapping sticks.

None but the birds' elect may now me well
   And understand
I come to bring you an enchanter's spell
   From some charmed land.
From some green Arcady that men kave known
   In dreams alone.

A fairy out of fairyland, I flit
   For one brief day,
Like all good fortune, here a while to sit,
   And then away,
Leaving but memories of elfin tricks
   And broken sticks.