Gentle little feathered friend of mine
Only for you should we build a shrine
Little you ask but much pleasure bring
During the day we can hear you sing
Fine gold is the color of your breast
In the eve you take it to your nest
No other bird just loves thistle seed
Clinging to the bag or to the weed
Here's to you; may you have what you need
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice sentimental touch good one I have enjoyed the series and checked carefully for syllable count
What? You didn't trust my count? Thanks for commenting, Wes!