THE SINGING GARDEN

The Yellow Robin

I’m the friendliest of them all,
      When winter comes;
  Daily at your door I call
      Begging crumbs.
  Clinging sideways to a stake,
  Eloquent appeal I make.
  “Spare a scrap for pity’s sake!
      This cold air numbs.”

I will  follow as you dig
      And search the dirt.
  Worms or beetles, small or big,
      Are my dessert;
  And, should you seem gently kind,
  From your hand I do not mind
  Taking anything you find;
      But I’m a flirt.

For when  spring comes to the land
      You are forgot.
  I have great affairs on hand
      As days wax hot.
  Should I pass you, I pretend
  To ignore my winter’s friend;
  Intimacy’s at an end;
      I know you not.

Yet, when winter comes once more,
      And summer ends,
  You will find me at your door
      To make amends;
  Clinging sideways to a stake,
  Eloquent appeal I’ll make:
  “Spare a scrap for pity’s sake!
      Aw, let’s be friends!”