The October Redbreast
Autumn is weary, halt, and old;
   Ah, but she owns the song of joy!
Her colours fade, her woods are cold.
   Her singing-bird’s a boy, a boy.
In lovely Spring the birds were bent
   On nests, on use, on love, forsooth!
Grown-up were they. This boy’s content,
   For his is liberty, his is youth.
The musical stripling sings for play
   Taking no thought, and virgin-glad.
For duty sang those mates in May.
   This singing-bird’s a lad, a lad.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (
Created April 14, 2001; not revised.