To The Passing of The Nightingale, poetry by Lynn White at Spillwords.com
Ralph Nas

To The Passing of The Nightingale

To The Passing of The Nightingale

written by: Lynn White

 

Where are the songs of spring?
Aye, where are they?
Well, Mr K,
they are harder to find
than they were in your day.
Gone with the nightingale,
Gone with the meadows,
the hedgerows,
the woods,
The habitats lost,
destroyed.
Destroyed like the food
that people call pests.
Predated.
Predated by farmers,
one way or another,
the countryside’s guardians,
that’s what they say.
The spring singing has ended,
almost over and done.
Aye, you might well ask, Mr K
The singing is not as it was
in your day.

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