82
THE FIRST RED-BIRD.
Yet oh, too light of heart, too light of wings,
Here, at the promise of the leaf, he sings!
Here, at the promise of the leaf, he sings!
Ah, Red-Bird, hush, and wait you within call,
Till for your dead a tear or two can fall.
Till for your dead a tear or two can fall.
No. After all, you do a wiser thing,—
Sing for the rest, who never more can sing.
Sing for the rest, who never more can sing.
