Where Robins Call

Through city-sounds, I hear the new green word

That April in the country speaks. Joy-stirred,

I swift-wing back where robin bugles call

And larks release a splashing waterfall

Of melody to crystal-thread the dawn.

I watch the sunrise spill pale gold upon

A white hawk wheeling low against the blue.

The requiem of mourning doves tolls through

The wrens small chatterings. Then hush! Oh, hush!

Canary lyrics frill the willow brush

And fringe the hawthorne. Low-contralto clear

A killdeer-Angelus chimes, "God is near."

Prophetic are symphonic canticles

From fields, fresh-furrowed, blossoming with gulls.