I heard of the song sung by the man;
I listen’d to the song of the bird.
I heard the song sung on the sand,
The song of the bird, sung by the man.
A song of death, of losing a mate;
A song of loss, the heart would break.
How can I hear it, how can I take
Such a song, a poem, it makes the heart quake.
The mate is gone, it’s gone! it’s gone!
And the bird sings again and again in song:
What’s wrong, what’s wrong, O! wrong?
And life will go on, it always goes on;
And the story it then becomes a poem,
of the bird that sang his forlorn song
for the mate whose gone: she’s gone, she’s gone!
And I write of his song, for you, this poem,
That you may know of his long sad song.
That you may know, of his loss in a poem,
Of a mate that’s gone: she’s gone! she’s gone!
And who was my teacher, what was his song?
Hold no fear, no answer is wrong.
Have no qualm, keep the heart strong.
Be calm, be calm! no answer is wrong.
My teacher was famous, and so was his poem,
Alas! of a mate, now mateless in song.
A matchless mate, which makes it seem wrong;
But such is the way in a very sad song;
And must be the way, to make it a poem.
©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn