by William Henry Davies (1871 - 1940)

Robin Redbreast
Language: English 
Robin on a leafless bough, 
Lord in Heaven, how he sings! 
Now cold Winter's cruel Wind 
Makes playmates of withered things. 

How he sings for joy this morn ! 
How his breast doth pant and glow! 
Look you how he stands and sings, 
Half-way up his legs in snow! 

If these crumbs of bread were pearls, 
And I had no bread at home, 
He should have them for that song; 
Pretty Robin Redbreast, Come. 

Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-01-15
Line count: 12
Word count: 74