She was born when the blackberry hung on the vine
Dark and sweet,
The last of the harvesting gave me a child
Fair and neat,
With hair like the rippling corn ready for reaping
Good to savour,
And eyes like cloudy grey skies seeking
The love that I gave her.
When the blackbird is trilling she copies his tune
High and clear,
When leverets are leaping she'll dance in a ring
Fleet and sheer,
When the rainbow drips colours she paints me a picture
Gold and blue,
When the Canada gees fly away early morning
She will go, too.
1977