Lying awake in my dormitory
I listen and from far away
I hear a bird calling me -
Softly it comes,
Softly it goes,
Inviting,
Exciting
My tame contentment -
Leading me to suppose
Its owner is a kingly bird.
Softly it comes,
Softly it goes.
And where the firs, dark, morose
Their red barks set close
On damp-mossened ground -
There is the source
And loud is the sound.
1951, England)
Philippa Lane
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-call-of-a-wood-pigeon/
