On days the Robin doesn't come

I don't know where he goes,

but I can't be the only one

he sings to I suppose...

 

So in my mind I conjure him

as if to call him near,

that somewhere in my conjuring

his calls to me appear...

 

though better that his song is sung

so all mankind might share,

with calming notes our days begun

raised up by natures care...

 

to fill our hearts with common want

no more than we might need,

that men should drink from wisdoms font

and not the trough of greed.