Robin’s round

Robin’s Round

I am the proper

Bird for this season –

Not blessed St Turkey,

Born to be eaten.

I’m man’s inedible

Permanent bird.

I dine in his garden,

My spoon is his spade.

I’m the true token

Of Christ the Child-King:

I nest in man’s stable,

I eat at man’s table,

Through all his dark winters

I sing.

 U. A. Fanthorpe “Christmas Poems”: Enitharmon press


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