perched on fir-tree, towering o'er fences,
its gold and scarlet delighting my senses,
his song piercing miasma o' reverie,
awakening the past, the shadow of memory

of years gone by, of years gone past,
of time that has run, away so fast,
a time when sadness had not yet intruded,
a time i lived, myself secluded

a time i passed through wild fields,
in morn of golden sunshine,
when rays of happiness pierced the shields
o' corporeal, to reveal the divine,

there in thickets, oblivious to man,
sings the goldfinch as only he can,
with black and red and beige of royalty,
as corporal general dressed flamboyantly

unaware of its own grandeur
twittering as skilled raconteur,
he ruled the air of my school days
and to this day sends forth his rays