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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Robin Rapture

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3113 reads)
My robin ruled the apple tree,

Robin Rapture

My robin ruled the apple tree,
    His glee was piercing sweet.
So taken with his song was he,
    He scarce had time to eat.
And as he wet his bill with dew
    And saw his brood take wing,
The joyous Spring and Summer through,
    He never ceased to sing.

My robin perched upon the wall
    And trilled with Autumn zest,
No ruby leaflet of the Fall
    Was brighter than his breast.
He greeted me with morning dew,
    The eve echoed his glee:
As nearer to my door he drew
    I knew he sang for me.

My robin stood upon the sill
    And pecked the window pane.
Alas! the house was dark and still,
    And all his cheer was vain.
Then when the snow was wavering
    from cold and cruel skies,
My little robin ceased to sing
    And closed his eyes.

Sweet spirit of embodied joy,
    You piped the season through,
And now the gods your note destroy,
    I sing a song for you.
Aye, though the sentiment's absurd,
    fantastical maybe,
If there's no heaven for a bird
    Let there be none for me.

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