The Goldfinch

A goldfinch waits upon this golden day,

And sits in sunset unconcerned

by stubborn summer’s cold delay,

Or by the wind that hides outside our doors,

Or rain unjustly locked away inside gray skies,

It cannot follow him if he climbs past clouds,

But only when to Earth they bring predicted gloom,

Blown with winds who ask sometime to darken certain other days,

But this day forever vouchsafed is held,

And in its modesty then nature holds us by our earthly pride,

And teaches all imprisoned here,

To learn the songs sung by golden birds.

-Albert Turner Goins