Robin

Quite empty, quite at rest,

The Robin locks her Nest, and tries her Wings.

She does not know a Route

But puts her Craft about

For rumored Springs

She does not ask for Noon

She does not ask for Boon,

Crumbless and homeless, of but one request

The Birds she lost

True love

If I could hold love in my hand

To help you see and understand

The love I have shaped in a mold

Is again about to unfold

For you my queen it is like gold

True love is new love never old.