The Crane is My Neighbour by John Shaw Neilson

The bird is my neighbour, a whimsical fellow and dim;

There is in the lake a nobility falling on him.

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The bird is a noble, he turns to the sky for a theme,

And the ripples are thoughts coming out to the edge of a dream.

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The bird is both ancient and excellent, sober and wise,

But he never could spend all the love that is sent for his eyes

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He bleats no instruction, he is not an arrogant drummer,

His gown is simplicity - blue as the smoke of summer.

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How patient he is as he puts out his wings for the blue!

His eyes are as old as the twilight, and calm as the dew.

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The bird is my neighbour, he leaves not a claim for a sigh,

He moves as a guest of the sunlight - he roams in the sky.

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The bird is a noble, he turns to the sky for a theme,
And the ripples are thoughts coming out to the edge of a dream.