“A widow bird sat mourning for her love Upon a wintry bough; The frozen wind crept on above, The freezing stream below.”……………………By P. B. Shelley Often in the legends have I heard, A heartrending tale of a lonely bird. Now for your sake shall I endeavour To recount it from a fading memory’s core. Once upon a time in a thriving wood Where no human ever dared to rove A colossal oak in its youth stood On whose boughs of solid wood Did rest a humble nest, who’s above A widow bird sat mourning for her love. Perched over the branches of that tree The widow bird sang yearning to be free And with the soft breeze drifted along A sweet and yet melancholic song. And all creatures were beguiled to the refrain Of that superlative tune from that tree’s brow But none could appreciate the pain That lurked behind that melancholic strain So alone, she sang lone of a parted lover’s vow Upon a wintry bough. Now if I miss a part, I hope to be forgiven, As for a flawless narration I’ve striven And now as far as I remember, It was the frozen month of December, All creatures breathing in the wood, Their chilling skins with weary legs they hove Seeking a safer and cozier hood But still, upon that bough the widow bird stood, Neglecting the wintry pang, she sang for the return of her love; The frozen wind crept on above. Unsheltered among the withered leaves and bark, On and on she sang to outcarol the lark The frozen wind stung into her vein And yet she paid no heed to her pain. For, a solitary hope did her heart yearn That bound her desolate soul to linger upon the bough. She sang with the hope that one day her love would return And from two lover’s reunion, the faithless world would learn But soon her veins bloated and her body floated into the waters low, Of the freezing stream below.