Waxwing, waxwing, what do you bring
From the frozen North?
Waxwing, waxwing, we've been waiting on you.
I bring the amber that I have gathered
On the northern seashore.
For the hatchlings I have fathered for thee.
I've been underground where wyverns are bound
And where gold and jewels are found,
These I hoarded under my barry-brown wing.
We have no need, no need of your amber,
Likewise your gold and your jewels--
There is no true beauty in things of no use.
Waxwing, waxwing, my only asking:
Tether the braces so cruel.
Keep my young well-feathered and their bellies full.
And waxwing, waxwing, what will you do,
When your days of fathering are through,
When at last grim Death comes a'knocking on you?
I can do nothing but fly in the wake of my kin.
I will soar onward undaunted and die on the wing.
I'll die in the canyon of echoes; you'll still hear me sing,
And still I will give to you all the things I bring.