38
POEMS.
By snatches through his weary brain
To help him rest;
When next he goes that road again,
An empty nest
On leafless bough will make him sigh,
"Ah me! last spring
Just here I heard, in passing by,
That rare bird sing!"
To help him rest;
When next he goes that road again,
An empty nest
On leafless bough will make him sigh,
"Ah me! last spring
Just here I heard, in passing by,
That rare bird sing!"
But while he sighs, remembering
How sweet the song,
The little bird on tireless wing,
Is borne along
In other air, and other men
With weary feet,
On other roads, the simple strain
Are finding sweet.
The birds must know. Who wisely sings
Will sing as they;
The common air has generous wings,
Songs make their way.
How sweet the song,
The little bird on tireless wing,
Is borne along
In other air, and other men
With weary feet,
On other roads, the simple strain
Are finding sweet.
The birds must know. Who wisely sings
Will sing as they;
The common air has generous wings,
Songs make their way.
THE TRUE BALLAD OF THE KING'S SINGER.
HE king rode fast, the king rode well,The royal hunt went loud and gay,
A thousand bleeding chamois fell
For royal sport that day.
