Look left from oak to right of beech
Glance up to slumbered canopy
A ball of rufous mottled feathers fills with crisp cold air
You beauty of the frozen mist and frosted whitened wood
Sing loud, sing long
Sing spirit full with silken rare and rippled song
Winter fall as sigh to spring till end of March
The stretch of wing
And then with warmth on day
Of sudden gift you come to be
As strength of angel-silk your tune
As broad in reach as sky-lit moon
Beloved of all the sounds that fly
That I have heard or light will see
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