In a meadow green with life
With too many a rose to bear
At the end of a winding faraway road
Waits a blackbird; sunk in despair
For only when the reapers fall to work; it sings
Fills the meadow’s sweet air.
Now it sings:
Hers were bright eyes; they saw
Clear dreams of a shining knight
Silver sword in hand; right at heart
He who pulls the forces of evil apart
Riding a brown horse
A beast of honour and power
A silky mane; black as night.
A moment; then
Arrives another, in quick order they come
Its tiny chest fragments at the news; its back bent
And the blackbird sings again
For none else can sing a song
As beautiful as a blackbird’s lament.
I hear your voice in birdsong