The First Robin | A Poem by Eugene Secor
Both literally and metaphorically, the first robin of spring, with his lively song, reminds us that winter has passed, and bright new days are ahead.
SPRINGTIMEUPLIFTING
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The First Robin (1911)
by Eugene Secor
The larch's topmost twig is bent—
A cradle lent
To aid his musical intent—
And lusty is his song.
Though crisp the lucent air, the note
From out his throat
Is for despair an antidote,
Though winter's tarried long.
Brave prophet of a better day,
I love thy lay,
Thou see'st the greenery of May
While yet the trees are bare.
Thy hope inspires my heart to sing,
Gives faith sure wing,
Because thy prophecy of spring
Rebukes the chilly air.
Thou art the vanguard of a host
Who'll charge the ghost
Of Winter with a song almost
Before his soul has passed.
Now, if he flings his darts at me
I'll think of thee
And all thy comrades soon to be,
And victory forecast.
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