Feathers

One night, out of my window did I glance,
To see the moon flooded night,
The nocturnal did stir up my mind,
To sit and watch the night,

Oh what a beauty!! what a delight!!.

On the oak did perch, a raven of the folk.
Her black feathers did reflect with silver sheen,
And into the night did she caw, melancholy
And so did I hear, I heard the raven sing,

She sang of torment,
and into the night did she sing.
and her songs did discomfort my heart,
For the truth did she sing,

"Oh, my heart be at peace,
for its just a raven who sings.
But, a human I am, and my heart does ache.
For its the truth that she sings".

The hour did strike night,the hour did strike late,
but the raven didn't cease her chants.
To misery did she lead my soul,
And in misery did she ruin my night.

Tormented by the unceasing caw,
did repose bolt from my being.
The night was long, and sleep was gone,
And at length did I loose my peace,

For with a bow did I shoot her down,
And the songs of torment ceased with her decline.
She could have flown, she could have Survived,
But she choose to stay and sing for the night,

But what could a dreary raven do ,
When even the feathers fail the flight.
For the one who made me, and the one who made her,
Gave the Bow in my hand in the night.