To One Dead

A blackbird singing On a moss upholstered stone, Bluebells swinging, Shadows wildly blown, A song in the wood, A ship on the sea. The song was for you And the ship was for me.

A blackbird singing I hear in my troubled mind, Bluebells swinging I see in a distant wind. But sorrow and silence Are the wood's threnody, The silence for you And the sorrow for me.