"If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs,
"The bark on this tree were as soft as the skies."
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
Crying out to the moon, "If only, if only."
"If only, if only." The moon speaks no reply
Reflecting the sun and all that's gone by.
Be strong, my weary wolf, turn around boldly.
Fly high, my baby bird, my angel, my only.
~Emily Dickinson
