ROBIN’S NEST

  

One dull afternoon

I dozed in my chair,

My face before

The window where

 

I’d peered through blinds

At the robin’s nest

Made of mud and twigs

And lined with grass.

 

And the bird was there,

When I shut my eyes

In a torpid swoon

With a yielding sigh.

 

But when I woke,

The nest was torn

From the spruce’s branch

Where it was moored.

 

The blue green eggs

Lay on the ground

Shattered and dry,

No robin around.

 

More than this I rue,

More than this I weep:

Times I should have watched,

Times I fell asleep.