The Robin.
little red robin outside the glass
catching all the rain on a dreary day
i knew nothing of his past
but i felt familiar with him anyway
red-chest robin with his face in the dirt
all his friends were slimy little worms
he called the dry, thin twigs his perch
mothers keep your kids away; he’s crawling with germs
little red robin, how could you be
the brown-mask bandit of the maple tree
little red robin, can you hear my plea –
get down from up high before you feel too free
i knew it couldn’t belong until the sprig would break
a grim “cheerio! ” to the world he cried
his little red soul then the lord did take
when he swooped into the pane and died
Related quotes
His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin
(carly simon)
His friends are more than fond of robin
He doesnt need to compliment them
And always as he leaves he leaves them
Feeling proud just to know him
When robin goes on holiday
Theres no-one livin in our lane
Oh yes, folks still live in our lane
But theyre not like robin
Robin, Ive never told you
But Ill be yours until were old
Please learn to call me in your dreams
The way Im lookin at you is just as it seems
Hes talked about before he gets there
Though he can never understand it
And I wouldnt like to be his alone
But Im shy and cant demand it
But when robin gives his love to others
Theres no-one living in my heart
Oh yes, I keep others in my heart
But theyre not like robin
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin Redbreast
Good-bye, good-bye to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our Thrushes now are silent,
Our Swallows flown away, --
But Robin's here, in coat of brown,
With ruddy breast-knot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin singing sweetly
In the falling of the year.
Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian Princes,
But soon they'll turn to Ghosts;
The scanty pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough,
It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late,
'Twill soon be Winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And welaway! my Robin,
For pinching times are near.
The fireside for the Cricket,
The wheatstack for the Mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow, --
Alas! in Winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
poem by William Allingham
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Robin Hood, An Outlaw.
Robin Hood is an outlaw bold
Under the greenwood tree;
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air
Is more at large than he.
They sent against him twenty men,
Who joined him laughing-eyed;
They sent against him thirty more,
And they remained beside.
All the stoutest of the train,
That grew in Gamelyn wood,
Whether they came with these or not,
Are now with Robin Hood.
And not a soul in Locksley town
Would speak him an ill word;
The friars raged; but no man's tongue,
Nor even feature stirred;
Except among a very few
Who dined in the Abbey halls;
And then with a sigh bold Robin knew
His true friends from his false.
There was Roger the monk, that used to make
All monkery his glee;
And Midge, on whom Robin had never turned
His face but tenderly;
With one or two, they say, besides,
Lord! that in this life's dream
Men should abandon one true thing,
That would abide with them.
We cannot bid our strength remain,
Our cheeks continue round;
We cannot say to an aged back,
Stoop not towards the ground;
We cannot bid our dim eyes see
Things as bright as ever;
Nor tell our friends, though friends from youth,
That they'll forsake us never:
But we can say, I never will,
Friendship, fall off from thee;
And, oh sound truth and old regard,
Nothing shall part us three.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Desolate
From the sad eaves the drip-drop of the rain!
The water washing at the latchel door;
A slow step plashing by upon the moor;
A single bleat far from the famished fold;
The clicking of an embered hearth and cold;
The rainy Robin tic-tac at the pane.
'So as it is with thee
Is it with me,
So as it is and it used not to be,
With thee used not to be,
Nor me.'
So singeth Robin on the willow tree,
The rainy robin tic-tac at the pane.
Here in this breast all day
The fire is dim and low,
Within I care not to stay,
Without I care not to go.
A sadness ever sings
Of unforgotten things,
And the bird of love is patting at the pane;
But the wintry water deepens at the door,
And a step is plashing by upon the moor
Into the dark upon the darkening moor,
And alas, alas, the drip-drop of the rain!
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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I Dreamt Of Robin
I opened the casement this morn at starlight,
And, the moment I got out of bed,
The daisies were quaking about in their white
And the cowslip was nodding its head.
The grass was all shivers, the stars were all bright,
And Robin that should come at e'en--
I thought that I saw him, a ghost by moonlight,
Like a stalking horse stand on the green.
I went bed agen and did nothing but dream
Of Robin and moonlight and flowers.
He stood like a shadow transfixed by a stream,
And I couldn't forget him for hours.
I'd just dropt asleep when I dreamed Robin spoke,
And the casement it gave such a shake,
As if every pane in the window was broke;
Such a patter the gravel did make.
So I up in the morning before the cock crew
And to strike me a light I sat down.
I saw from the door all his track in the dew
And, I guess, called 'Come in and sit down.'
And one, sure enough, tramples up to the door,
And who but young Robin his sen?
And ere the old folks were half willing to stir
We met, kissed, and parted agen.
poem by John Clare
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Metaphors, Similes and stuff - Pooh Bear Explains
Christopher Robin and Pooh walked slowly down the path in the woods, treading on the occasional crackly twig.
'CR...' said Pooh, 'What's a Poeh Tree? Is it the same as a Poem, or a hum? '
'Well, Pooh, the very very best Poeh Tree in the world is your own:
'Isn't it funny
how bears like hunny?
It's what I call rum-ti-tum-itry. Everyone likes rum-ti-tum-itry. Even grown-ups. Rum-ti-tum-itry is friendly. Rum-ti-tum-itry is like two friends walking together. Like you and me, Pooh. Which makes you the very best rum-ti-tum-iter in the world...'
'That's tum as in...? ' asked the Very Stout Bear, cautiously.
'As in a Hum' said Christopher Robin. 'But then there's other things in Poetry such as Truth, and Other People Reading It And Nodding. And Similes. And Metaphors. There's a lot in Poetry.'
'What's a Simile, CR? ' asked Pooh. It sounded like what bees said just before they landed on something, like a hunny jar, or Pooh's nose.
'It's when you say something is like something else, to help people imagine it.' said CR.
Pooh had a Think. A Pondery sort of Think.
'Like perhaps - 'happiness is like hunny'? ' asked Pooh tentatively. He suddenly felt very five-to-four-ish at this Thought.
'That's exactly it, Pooh' said Christopher Robin happily. 'Or even sometimes the other way around! '
Pooh felt warm inside - almost like after eating honey - knowing now that a Simile wasn't a threat any more. 'What's a Metaphor, CR? '
'That's rather more difficult, Pooh. It's when you say something is something else, and people know what you mean somehow, and say 'Aha! ' and nod their heads...
Pooh had a longer, Pondery sort of Think.
'Like... teatime means honey? ' he offered hesitantly. Though he knew this was Truth and Other People Nodding, anyway.
'Something like that' said Christopher Robin. 'And then...' he said carefully, in case it was a bit too much for Beloved Bear for one day, but wanting to tell him all the same, 'there's the Extended Metaphor - which I think you might like, Pooh...' (he said hastily In Case) - 'like in a poem by Rupert Brooke, where he says 'Is there hunny still for tea? ' but what he really means is, he's a long way from home and can't get back in time for tea, and feels rather sorry about it...'
'I see...' said Pooh, thoughtfully - like people do who Don't Quite, but like to be polite...
Pooh decided there and then that the Poeh Tree was worth finding, now that he knew three things about it or was it four? It called for an Expedishun.
'Can you talk Poeh Tree, CR? Is it like what we are talking now?
'I think that's called a Prose Poem, Pooh' said Christopher Robin.
*
It was getting near to what Metaphoric Poets like Edward Bear call Time for a Little Something. Christopher Robin and Pooh turned and walked back slowly, the silence broken now and then by a crackly twig just waiting to be trodden on.
Pooh held Christopher's hand tight, as he was doing a lot of Poetic Thinking. He was wondering how anyone could be so far away from home that they couldn't get back home for tea. And worse, not knowing whether there was hunny in the cupboard or not...
But then he had a little five-to-fourish Hum, when he remembered that there was indeed hunny still for tea...
'Rupert Brooke at ten to three
knew he wouldn't get home for tea;
but now it's nearly five to four;
time for tea and Something More.'
Poetic Bears, you see, know all about Metaphor.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Robin Suicide
A robin committed suicide today
dead against my living room window pane;
flying fast in chilly mid-November;
perhaps heading south.
The sound; wings blurred; a thump!
he went straight to ground.
He should have missed the house,
it's large, the window is below the roof,
he was not flying blind
or forgot to look.
Like a jet with no flaps down,
he hit the window full-throttle;
smashing pain.
I got up took a look
expecting him to fly or stir
but he didn't move below; lay quiet.
I went down to see.
Robin, older, neck awry
didn't stir, didn't move.
no silent cry.
Neck broken.
Instant Death.
Instant Oblivion,
I looked for mourners.
There were none.
This Robin was solo in Death as we all are;
on his own.
It didn't seem fitting
to conduct a garbage-can burial,
I said a few words, cursed,
and decided to bury him in dirt.
Picked him up by his tail plumage
took him to the back yard;
dug a shallow grave, mumbled something;
lay him down in there;
patted the top of his dirt pyre
my good deed done.
A dead robin in my yard,
by my window undone.
But, I was thinking was he really a deliberate suicide?
There were clues.
How can a Robin miss
a big house,
there must be more hints
to this dead Robin mystery.
Perhaps he was an old Robin, diseased,
disoriented by Alzheimer's, or a bird pandemic;
could have been a bird fight
he fled,
The Crows around here are criminals and rough;
the Robin could have been bested in a West Side Story Bird Fight.
I rose to look for myself;
to look for clues to Robins' death,
not content for the time being
to dismiss it lightly
as dumb bird lost.
So... from Robin's height my window pane looks straight
on through the house, out through the back windows and
out into the trees in my backyard.
Ah ha; Robin's keen eyes
could have been looking at
my backyard trees,
flying straight and hard, not seeing
the window pane. Blam and there you are-
an explanation which made some sense
Robin in seeing his destination could not see what was right before him;
Death with painful irony.
His grave lay beneath those trees
he was so intent
to reach.
Dead Robin flying fast,
gaze fixed upon his own death.
How Shakespearean.
I think final destinations,
as in where we will die:
inside hospitals, on the road,
in a plane for most of us
is unknown.
My robin could see his own demise;
the means to him were clear and unclear;
my window, both opaque
and transparent
was right there before him.
Ah, again how Shakespearean.
A Robin causality;
wonder if he had kids.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Rockin Robin
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus :
Rockin robin, rock rock
Rockin robin
Blow rockin robin
cause were really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the tall oak tree
The wise old owl, the big black crow
Flappin their wings singing go bird go
Chorus
Pretty little raven at the bird-band stand
Told them how to do the bob and it was grand
They started going steady and bless my soul
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriol
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and singing his song
All the little birdies on jaybird street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet
Chorus
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
We can play in
With fuss and fun.
You can fly being gay
And catch insect prey.
As you like you play:
I won’t be in the way.
A beauty is your tail.
How ably you waggle!
When in air you sail
You are not fragile.
When you sing a song,
By your tail you clang.
You hold it upright,
Swing it down to spread
And gather it up
Like a drum beat,
Much in a rhythm
To your crooning rhyme.
Black in white is good.
White in black is good.
You’re black and white
And are superbly bright.
Chest and dorsal are black.
Ventral is velvet white.
Wings too bear white
You are white by black.
Koel like is Latha;
You are my Asha,
With look seductive
And voice captive.
You are nice to sing..
You’re nicer by wing.
Love, can you spring?
I love you, Robin.
With me, you are free.
Anytime you can flee.
I make you happy
When you are with me.
Don’t feel it a sin
To be with me in.
You will have fun,
Which is your win
Robin and Robin!
Come to my cabin.
I’ll play a tune.
You rest and preen.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rockin Robin
(thomas)
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the old oak tree
Wise old owl, big black crow
Put out their wings singing go bird go
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Break
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robin had always wanted to go solo, so when it happened I wasn't angry at all. I understood the situation. But Barry is so full of pride and couldn't understand why Robin had done it.
quote by Maurice Gibb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the beginning, Barry and I couldn't decide if we were going got go forward with the name of the Bee Gees or just as Barry and Robin. Now we've decided to continue as the Bee Gees because we feel we can, and Maurice would have wanted it.
quote by Robin Gibb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rocket Robin Hood
Come gather around me. Space travelers surround me.
Hark now to the ballad of Rocket Robin Hood.
I may well confound you, astound you, spellbound you,
With heroes and villains, the bad and the good.
Watch now as our rockets race here from afar.
For now, with our Robin, we live on a star.
Three. Two. One. Blast off!
Band of brothers, marching together.
Heads held high in all kinds of weather.
With fiery blasts, our roaring rockets rise,
Beyond the Earth, beyond the skies!
At the sight of Robin, take your stand,
With the gallant leader of our band.
Send a joyous shout throughout the land!
For Rocket Robin Hood!
poem by Todd Steussie
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The Laws Of Nature
In the lonely wood of Clara orange breast robin pipes his song
A warning to all Clara robins 'that this here space to me belong'
And neighbour cock robin listen and the message is understood
Of old cocky himself master at the corner of the wood.
Every morning of the Spring time from branch of tall larch tree
He utter forth a warning in a song like melody
As if to say 'hey neighbour robin stay clear of my boundary'
For if you venture across my border blood will be spilt needlessly.
Even in the wilds of the wild kingdom all creatures are not wholly free
Some are bound by law of Nature to stay in one territory
And like us mortal humans they fall out and disagree
And they wage war on each other and for the loser it's die or flee.
In the lonely wood of Clara on this bright morning in May
Orange breast robin pipes his warning 'keep away oh keep away'
Keep away ye other robins from my wife and family
Dare ye venture across my border this acre belong to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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First Robin of Spring
Today heard a beautiful
sound, it was up in a tree,
sitting on a branch so alone,
spring is near by.
As my first robin to
see is looking down
on me, so peacefully,
robins are a sure sign,
warm weather is on its way,
a new start, new beginning,
beautiful sounds coming
from this beautiful robin.
Winter so cold, so long,
snow almost all gone,
spring flowers just
a stone throw away.
Dear robin you bring such
joy and comfort to my
heart listening to you,
your welcome here anytime.
wrote 3-14-07
Threescore years and Ten
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
The Sage’s Response to the Septuagenarian
How many earthly empires
the circling sun must set?
Friend, hast felt of love fires?
Mere mortal smile, why fret?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0021 4 November 1974
Threescore years and Ten
October’s moon is wane,
May’s sun may not be here:
how many Springs remain
my weary way to cheer?
© Jonathan Robin robi3_0020 4 November 1974
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Triolet: The Robin's Song
The robin perched atop the tree
Signals spring his warbling song;
How long will I be pleased to see
The robin perched atop the tree?
Because it seems he sings for me,
I feel I want to sing along
With the robin perched atop the tree
Who signals spring his warbling song!
poem by Richard St. Clair
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What Is, Was
WHAT IS, WAS
What is, was, what was, will be, -
The wheel turns while Time cheats
Those who'd cheat time.
5 September 1998
What is Was_19980911_What is, was, what was, will be ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi03_0886_robi03_0000 XXX_CJZ
Poem What Is, Was © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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i8 The Kuan's Canticles
I hush the wail along my trail
Past hamlet, home and hollow,
While on I go with noiseless flow
And robin red-breasts follow.
And like a psalm, benign and calm,
I blight the brow of winter ;
I snap the chains that hold the reins
The fields of ice I splinter ;
And like the tide I run and ride,
The bated winds I swallow ;
Triumphant still past rock and rill,
And robin red-breasts follow.
A wing of light from night to night
My perfumed chariot passes,
And I can hear in meadows clear
The whispering of the grasses ;
With joyous face I onward race
Past hopeless height and hollow,
While swift and strong with simple song
My robin red-breasts follow.
The north wind bleeds the rustling reeds
The happy news is telling,
And I can hear in forests near
The juicy leaf -buds swelling ;
I onward rush without the thrush,
The red bird or the swallow,
You need n't mind, for close behind
My robin red-breasts follow.
poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan
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