Little Sparrow

Little sparrow! your song resounds deep in my heart;
You: a fine creature – singular and fair.
For though time be long and oceans do us part,
Still hear I your sweet strains a-fluttering in air.

Head cocked and wonder, your countenance draws me in;
Rifts me asunder – what pleasure and chagrin!
What I wouldn’t give once more those gleaming eyes to see;
One day I’ll fly back to you.. or else you first to me.

Being out of earshot won’t alleviate,
Mollify, pacify, nor even palliate.
Hardest, though, to bear is your silence eloquent:
A thorny bloom of love, wrapped in angel’s robes me sent.

It was your first gaze, surely, that then my downfall spelled;
Your song which has me nonstop as your abject captive held.
Were those last sad chirps from you, which made me stutter and gawk,
telling me that I’m no sparrow, but a brazen, rapacious hawk?