Little Brown Duck on a Northern Lake

by Mark Schatz ('97)

Little brown duck on the northern lake
Where is your mother, it's getting late.
Says harvest moon o'er the lapping waves,
My friend fly south or end your days.

Oh silver moon, it's here I stay
For I need my mother to show me the way.
Where can she be, I do not know,
I'm so alone and miss her so.

The owl flies o'er with a who and a who,
Have I a sad tale to tell to you.
Your mother a sorry fate did meet,
She's fallen to the foxes teeth.

Then let me freeze says the shivering bird,
I cannot bear another word.
For all the other ducks have flown
And my sorrow is a heavy stone.

But moon says oh poor little one
You cannot wait till the morning sun.
This night will freeze you if you stay,
Do lift your wings and make your way.

Raise up your eyes, see the star of the North
By this one can you guide your course.
With him at your back and my light in your eyes
To southward can you surely fly.

From these kind words the duck took heart.
With a quack and a flutter he resolved to depart.
With the North star behind him away did he go,
With sadness and hope and the moon's friendly glow.

So if on a cool Autumn night you should spy
A lone duck flying south with the moon in his eyes,
Wake up to the voice that is calling to you
Let faith be the wings that will carry you through.