The Unfaithful April

I saw a robin last year, I heard him fill his throat High in the trembling elm tree With note on gallant note. So splendidly his red breast Went flashing in the dew, I thought beneath his glad wings His heart had broken through.

I hear the robin this year, His voice is sweet and strong, But I can not give him welcome Nor listen to his song. How can he bear the new leaves Around his last year's nest? How can he sing with old wounds Still red upon his breast?