The Robins (A Poem)

Ann Terrill is a California housewife.

Hymns of truth may die unsung

For want of men to sing.

But robins yearly take the job

Of building brand new Spring.

They live their simply patterned way

And somehow carry on,

While nations fall for lack of faith

To build a pattern on.


For robins never waver

In their task (a stubborn trait);

Nor set up limits on their time

(They can’t be thinking straight)!


What makes that type so unconcerned?

They might produce much more

Of sprightly sunny melody

Than Spring had bargained for.

What then? There is no guarantee

Of payment in advance!

They’re just too energetic, so

Best look on them askance.


They might encounter lots of things

Like hurricanes or snow,

Or scrawny worms or bigger birds

Or cats, or brats, you know!


They haven’t asked a subsidy

From God to cover these,

And don’t you think they’re foolish

To depend so much on trees?


But they go right on working,

Bearing young and singing, too!

Why haven’t they the sense to change?

Improve! The way we do.

Related Articles


{{}} - {{relArticle.pub_date | date : 'MMMM dd, yyyy'}} {{}} - {{relArticle.pub_date | date : 'MMMM dd, yyyy'}}
{{article.Topic.Topic}} {{article.Topic.Topic}}