I sometimes sit alone at night,
All huddled up and out of sight,
And listen to the whippoorwill;
She welcomes darkness with her trill.

Her feathers bear no colored spot,
A peacock’s beauty, she has not,
But still, she perches calm and proud,
As she sings her name aloud.

She doesn’t know that she is plain,
And continues singing her refrain,
I smile, knowing all along;
Her beauty rests within her song.