April 11, 2012

• A Little Bird

  A Little Bird came to me,

  Once of a summer day,
  And he told me secrets
  from here and there
  And some from far away.
  How a dewdrop sits on the top
  of a rose
  And does not roll away,
  A little bird told me
  Once on a summer day.

  A little bird came to me
  I think the time was fall.
  And he told me secrets
  bigger than big,
  And none of them were small.
  How the leaves turn to yellow
  and gold and brown
  Before they fall away,
  A little bird told to me
  Once on an autumn day.

  A little bird came to me,
  Once on a snowy day,
  And he told me secrets
  I did not know,
  Though why I can not say,
  Where little birds go, away
  from the snow
  For a nice warm place to stay,
  A little bird told to me
  Once on a winter’s day.

  A little bird came to me,
  Once on a bright spring day,
  And I asked for secrets
  of here and now,
  And some from far away,
  How little vines creep, and
  little birds cheep
  And little buds burst
  From their long winter’s sleep–
  These would I have him say.

  A little bird looked at me
  On this a bright spring day,
  And he answered questions
  I never asked
  But brushed my own away.
  “We can not know what’s beyond
  the beyond,”
  Was what he seemed to say,
  As he lifted his wings,
  Those bright magical things,
  And with them,
  he flew away.

  Eugenia Talitha Linch
  1907 – 1988
  Author of  My Flovilla

  Illustration by Henriette Browne
  “A Girl Writing”
  Oil on canvas 

  • 8:12 am
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