Photo by Gamaliel Masters
| Oh bird of love, "kill-dee, kill-dee" you sing beyond my night dulled pane, far out in night hushed meadow grass, "kill-dee, kill-dee, kill-dee". Oh foolish bird, call down the slivered April moon, if call her down you can. My bird of love, I heard you sing upon a distant lonely night "kill-dee, kill-dee, kill-dee" your piping piped an orange moon full in October's sky. My love held tightly to my hand, hushed quick my question of your name "kill-dee, kill-dee, kill-dee" you sang, "Your love will go away". And he is gone, but you, my silly, singing bird still pipe your lover's heart away. |
