THE BLUEBIRD.
ON ITS FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE SPRING OF 1810.
ail! warbling harbinger of Spring!
How soft thy wild notes fill the breeze!
Raptured, I hear thy fluttering wing,
Low murmuring ’mong the leafless trees.
Now when all lone and drear
Bleak Winter holds her gloomy reign,
And spreads afar her wide domain,
O’er brake and dell, and lawn and plain,
With joy thy notes we hear;
Their simple strains a charm impart,
Dear to the languid, aching heart.
Say, hast thou left yon mountains mild,
Where southern gales ambrosial blow?
To cheer our fields now lone and wild,
And ice-chained valleys clad in snow,
The opening spring to hail?
To bring the rosy charms of May,
The feathered choir of warblers gay,
And clothe in Nature’s green array,
The mountain and the vale?
