Outside the cold wind blows, but inside there is tropical heat
And a robin is singing in the Palm House, not a canary or a parakeet.
I walk down the spiral staircase and finally our eyes meet.
A robin is singing in the Palm House, with a voice honey sweet.
Heavy white doors swing open onto sorrow and defeat
While a robin still sings in the Palm House, with its voice honey sweet.
Phil Hall
And a robin is singing in the Palm House, not a canary or a parakeet.
I walk down the spiral staircase and finally our eyes meet.
A robin is singing in the Palm House, with a voice honey sweet.
Heavy white doors swing open onto sorrow and defeat
While a robin still sings in the Palm House, with its voice honey sweet.
Phil Hall
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