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richard mitchley - william wilfred campbell - to a robin in november كلمات أغنية

sweet, sweet and the soft listening heaven reels
in one blue ecstasy above thy song
in the red heart of all the opening year
in the hushed murmur of low dreaming fields
hung under heaven ’twixt dim blue and blue;
where the young summer, purpled and pearled in dew
mirrors herself in june, and knows no wrong

sweet, sweet, throwing thy lack of fear
back to the heart of god, till heaven feels
the throbbing of earth’s music through and through

dreaming in song,—great pulsing_hear ted hills
cradling the dawn in mists and purple veils
of vapors, over pearls of lakes and brooks
girdled about the neck of half the world
when the red birth of the young dreaming june
kisses the lands with gales, and murmurs, and trills
of melody, lips that blossom with tales
of music and color and form and beauty of looks
and snowy argosies in heaven furled
all summer set to one sweet warbled tune

and thou, red_throated , comest back to me
here in the bare november bleak and chill
breathing the red_ripe of the l_sty june
over the rime of withered field and mere;
o heart of music, while i dream of thee
thou gladdest note in the dead summer’s tune
great god! thou liest dead outside my sill
starved of the last chill berry on thy tree
like some sweet instrument left all unstrung
the melodious orchestra of all the year
dead with the sweet dead summer thou had’st sung;
dead with the dead year’s voices and clasp of hands;
dead with all music and love and laughter and light;
while chilly and bleak comes up the winter night
and shrieks the gust across the leafless lands

- richard mitchley

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