“The ballad-singers and the Troubadours,
The street musicians of the heavenly city,
The birds, who make sweet music for us all
In our dark hours, as David did for Saul”?
XX
MIDWINTER BIRDS
WINTER COMRADES
Plume and go, ye summer folk
Fly from Winter’s killing stroke,
Bluebird, Sparrow, Thrush, and Swallow,
Wild Geese from the marshes follow,