O, fragile frame upon the lifeless leaves,
Come share your melody of life once more.
The child clings to the cool grass as she grieves,
Rememb'ring days your presence graced the shore.
Her finger knows the texture of your wings,
But their strange coolness freezes her young heart.
Though not a pale-faced stranger to death's stings,
She rarely thought that you would soon depart.
Your tune was never absent from the hills,
And birchwood bowed to your wise, regal soul.
Those that you've left behind yearn for your trills;
They long to hear your humming at the knoll.
One morn, your wings were called to radiant air;
September breezes found you resting there.