The darkling thrush
Sits upon the broken gate
The wood is sharp
It trembles and shakes
Like twigs
When the thrush sings
Just like carolling
Her voice trembles
Her spirit at once fire
And clouds
Just like you
I whisper to Alice
You are my written
Song bird
My spirit is frail
It has an air of gloom
One I cannot shake off
Or dare to try
We could listen to
The darkling thrush
For all time
It feeds our soul
And gives us hope
Just like any song
Should do.
