Ode to a Bird

Where have you come from on this pleasant night?
Are you singing to the stars that shine bright?
You rest here now on that small cherry tree.
Great moon, shine more, for this bird I must see.
O, silver dove, oh golden falcon seen.
Your empty eyes do stare at me so keen.

What is this tune you now start to sing?
Your travels to my mind, do you now bring?
So sad this melody is in my ears;
Your hopes, your joys, your sadness and your fears.
Do I dare question what I hear from you,
Or do I perceive it as being true?

Have your travels taken so slow and long
That you must pause now from that soothing song?
For your voice is chipped from days of no rest,
And ruffle the feathers on your soft breast.
Behold, what is this that falls to the ground?
Tis a feather, and landed with no sound.

It is too tired from your journey, no?
Or what, should I have not perceived this as so?
Across many lands you did travel long,
Or did I mistake this from your sweet song?
Oh, your voice is more enchanting to me
Than any siren I have known to be.

Oh gentle feather, I hold in my hand,
Did you come from some foreign, frozen land?
You feel so rigid and cold on my palm.
Sweet bird, how can you sit there and seem calm?
You smile your best, and with your pure charm,
You rest on that branch, but nothing shall do harm.

And have you not flown over the deep seas,
Did you not fly on the softest of breeze,
Or followed the river across the land,
And soar above the golden desert sand?
Did heat nor cold provoke the slightest tear,
And did you not cry when you saw your fears?

Did you not perch on a grand oak tree limb
And see the weary souls around you grow slim,
And watch the grazing, fragile white-tailed deer?
Soft silent messenger, what brought you here?
Autumn's frail leaves did fall so soft and fair,
Like this smooth feather that lays down with care.

Did you not encounter a beast at some time,
Only to ease it with your purest of rhymes?
Whose paws did strike you, and knock you right down,
But now it grovels at your sight upon the ground.
Do you enjoy to make one feel so low,
Or is this just revenge for its cruel blow?

Have you not dined on the exotic seeds,
And did you not forage in the common reeds?
Have you not longed for some great meal,
And did you not take from one who must steal?
What inspires you to be greedy then,
When now you seem to be whole again?

Did you not come from a soft golden nest,
Whose mother did upon those blue eggs rest?
Were you not shoved off that limb to go fly,
And did your wings not prevent you to lie?
So, fair dove that does enchant me so great,
Why does this voice sing when it grows so late?

Fair moon, may I have a little more light,
To bring to my eyes and vanquish this night?
Golden falcon, why do you now stare long?
Continue the story, finish the song.
Sweet bird that I have never seen before,
Tis now this bird that I do which adore.

Do you now end your fair and pleasant tune,
To give way to the soft and palest moon?
Your wings, as they spread, a light in the dark,
Fly swiftly, away, my gold-crested lark.
Fair bird, sweet bird, I would not have it so.
Moon, give me some light to see my heart go.