The Little White Pigeon


The little white pigeon was not for me …
I called her mine and stroked her head,
I made her a home in the apple tree,
But “I must be going,” she said.

The little white pigeon, I let her go,
(God gave her wings and made her free),
And “Though you love me a lot, I know,
I must be homing,” said she.

first published in Gloria’s Book (Whitcombe & Tombs, 1933), © Gloria Rawlinson 1933, used by permission of the Rawlinson-Edge Trust. Recording from the Waiata New Zealand Poetry Sound Archive 1974

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