Ode to the Mockingbird ( a poem of tribute)
The Mocking Bird, an ungraceful name given, to this exemplary songstress,
Every beautiful note to be heard, so marvelous, is flawless and impeccable.
Always, it sings fine melodies, a wonderful virtuoso, a vibrant joy, to impress,
In tallest trees, where it does reside, warbling its sweet notes, all so delectable.
The grey and white plumage is its disguise, should be as a radiant gold or red,
By its fond chords and symphony, helps me greet the sun, as I arise from my bed.
The precious refrain, each evening to reign, played by nature, a wonder, supreme,
This marvel of feather, unmatched in its endeavor, to be held in our highest esteem.
Whether in flight or still, each song so shrill, then to cascade into a new crescendo,
Every bird, by itself, each treble, tenor, baritone clef, all rise and fall in its tempo.
This bird to be so remarkable, in skill to imitate, all species, as a mirrored reflection,
Its magic to spill, and to all a great thrill, its sweet serenade of a finest perfection.
The Mocking Bid, is such a gift to be heard, as its music it sings, again and again,
Its death, accepted as just, by nature, of a callous hand, viewed, as a terrible sin.
Truly, a marvelous gift, by the creator of all, in his benevolence, a fine presentation,
The greatest and small of his creatures, all, a fondest blessing, this, of his divination.
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