I sit upon this branch, to usher in your May,
And you attend my simple song at golden break of day.
I wonder that you listen, through your window near,
I’m flattered that my tiny song can so enchant your ear.
The twig on which I sit, in cold March wind did sway,
Yet firmly on my sturdy perch did I resolve to stay.
So as your seasons change, and winter winds do blow,
You needn’t feel confounded over things you do not know.
Resolve yourself like I, to what you know is true,
And you will sing your joyous song with strength the way I do.
Hold fast to ancient Word, cling tight to hope at bay,
I sit upon this olive branch to usher in your May.