A Robin (The European Robin)

by Walter de la Mare

Ghost-grey the fall of night,

Ice-bound the lane,

Lone in the dying light

Flits he again;

Lurking where shadows steal,

Perched in his coat  of blood,

Man's homestead at his heel,

Death-still the wood. 

Odd restless child,. it's dark;
All wings are flown

But this one wizard's - hark!- 

Stone clapped on stone ! 

Changeling and solitary, 

Secret and sharp and small, 

Flits he from tree to tree, 

Calling on all.