O why’d they misconstrue your colour against you?
When the song is swift imagination, so sweet and full
Why’d they whisper of weariness, of idiomatic blue?
When pause is ponderous play not a dark silent lull
It is the bluebird’s song that warm thoughts entice
That unexpected exuberant bout of welcomed joie de vivre
That instant intoxication of all virtue and all vice
Oft’ heard from coffee’d morn till the day’s end receive’
When beguiled by melody left to lilt through wistful air
That beacon of curiosity which so quickly is consume’
Cheery embrace – the listener enraptured is divided ne’er
Till the final bar closes only then may the day resume
Though for tunes of waking night the bluebird composes nigh
Alas, her song is for bright day not for moon’s sleepless sigh