Call me your sparrow and I shall sing.
Whether you love my tune or not,
My song shall henceforth ring
For the bounty of your bed, still hot,
Still ruined from the rowdy fun
Of nest-making, twigs and all.
Remember how the wracking sun
Did remind us how branches fall?
Bows break when hence we wake
And the songs are at an end.
I shall be no sparrow in the day,
But come night, nestward I wend.
Hold on to my feathers and trust my
wings,
For a nesting sparrow always truthful
sings.
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