The Trill of a Robin

It is a beautiful summer day I was wakened by a robin that lives in my hedge, He lives in my old hedge row happily singing a loud trill, his summer song, I sat in my garden wearing an old dressing gown sipping a mug of white coffee, Looking my way his round eyes scold me this is far too late to get out of bed. I could hear the voice of a stream flowing along in one of the lower meadows, It was warm, the morning sun shone on my face I closed my eyes to enjoy the glow, I nearly went back to sleep I opened my eyes and was told off again by the Robin, In early July nature stands strong full grown it's a perfect summer all is well, On a day such as this men and woman and troops of children walk the rivers margin, Refreshing long strolls through the glens and valleys on rolling beautiful hills, As the day gets warmer songs of the birds become faint the nightingale is hushed, The cuckoo has departed and the blackbird and the thrush rarely sing me a welcome. A red rose fades on a wayside the corn has begun to go pale it means a good harvest, There are still thousands of pretty beautiful flowers stretching into the distance, The grass is full of green patches the leaves on the trees go darker as they mature, Elder-flowers and corn poppy's sit in ancient hedgerows, sandy old heaths blow dust.