The Hour of the Blackbird

Oh the afternoon both calm and still

The hedgerow bare beneath the hill

Above the oak tree's lofty frame

Heavy clouds that threaten rain

But below that lonely darksome gloom

The early daffodils in bloom

From the holly bush above the throng

He greets them with his vernal song

From the other trees across the dell

A choir of voices starts to swell

And banish now the thought of rain

And hail the robin, King again!