Another Chance
Spring’s first Robin perched on the apple tree;
“Hello!” said I. “Hello!” said he.
He ruffled his feathers and cocked his eye;
“We’re back,” said he. “We’re back,” said I.
He bit the cold buds cheerfully;
“I see it’s the same old you,” said he.
I looked him over, perched on high;
“I see it’s the same old you,” said I.
“What do you work for this year?” asked he;
“The same old hopes of last year,” said I.
“What do you work for this year?” asked I;
“The same old hopes of last year,” said he—
“What? After the Cat and that tragedy
Of your whole nest blown from the apple tree?
You’ve got the courage that takes you high,
If you build again after that,” said I.
“Well, what of your dreams that didn’t come true,
And the world that mocked and cheated you?
You must be brave, and I do not see
How you dare build again,” said he.
“What d’ye want this year?” asked I;
“A strong nest under a placid sky
And your brood to cherish tenderly?”
“Well, you’ve got it about right,” said he.
“What do you want this year?” asked he;
“An answer to all the Mystery?
Some haven within a faith’s clear sky?”
“Please God! Yes, Robin, dear,” said I.
“Well, Spring’s here, anyhow,” said he;
“Good luck!” and flew from the apple tree;
“Yes, what ever the hopes that die,
God gives us another Spring,” said I.