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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344599" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Evensong</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon; <br>Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.<br>Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down, <br>And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high, <br>And his song delights many, as they pass by.<br>Your ears can not help, but hear his loud call, <br>As the sun, once again, sets and darkness falls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sings for joy, at the very top of his voice; <br>To listen to his song, you have little choice.<br>He sits at the very top of the tallest tree, <br>Singing so loudly; his heart full of glee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His plaintive call pierces the cool air, <br>As he sings his song, without a care.<br>A pure quality, his sweet song holds, <br>And he sings it out, so bright and bold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His singsong attracts many a nice comment; <br>His performance appears to be Heaven sent.<br>Of his captivated audience, he is unaware; <br>His song boasts beauty, beyond compare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like a church choir, as they sing evensong, <br>This small bird sings so very keen and strong.<br>Through the dark streets, home, I wearily wind; <br>Sad to be leaving the bird’s sweet song behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Angela+Wybrow">Angela Wybrow</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344599" data-title="Evensong de Angela Wybrow" data-description="It is late, on a cold, dark, wintry afternoon; 
Up high in a tree, a small bird merrily croons.
Trade in the town, has now begun to wind down, 
And taking centre stage, is the bird’s sweet sound.

Like an operatic singer, his voice soars high, 
..."></div>
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