No prairie-rose from far Dakota's plains;
No evening breeze from fields of tasseled corn;
No fragrances from clover-laden lanes—
Preceded thee our cottage to adorn.
No evening breeze from fields of tasseled corn;
No fragrances from clover-laden lanes—
Preceded thee our cottage to adorn.
Let me but live amidst the birds and flowers,
Where Nature sings from early morn to eve;
Where friendship basks in silent, sunny bowers,
And the deft hand can soothe those hearts that grieve.
Where Nature sings from early morn to eve;
Where friendship basks in silent, sunny bowers,
And the deft hand can soothe those hearts that grieve.
December 15, 1921
Little Golden Oriole
Ah, little golden oriole!
How sweet thy song in early spring,
While light May breezes shake the bough,
To which thy feet so firmly cling!
How sweet thy song in early spring,
While light May breezes shake the bough,
To which thy feet so firmly cling!
Thy morning carol ere the sun
Has risen o'er yon wooded hill,
Awakes from rest the drowsy flowers,
Whilst lark and thrush the morning thrill.
Has risen o'er yon wooded hill,
Awakes from rest the drowsy flowers,
Whilst lark and thrush the morning thrill.
Thine is the home of mystery!
Pray tell us, who thine architect?
In beauty thus with strength conjoined,
A mighty artist we detect.
Pray tell us, who thine architect?
In beauty thus with strength conjoined,
A mighty artist we detect.
Now perched on drooping elm so high,
We note thy carols sweet and clear,
Thy pendant home with rhythmic swing,
Thy happy birdlings free from fear.
We note thy carols sweet and clear,
Thy pendant home with rhythmic swing,
Thy happy birdlings free from fear.
From out the perfumed sunny south,
Plumed in thy gorgeous scarlet dress,
With carols soft as ere before,
Again thou com'st our homes to bless.
Plumed in thy gorgeous scarlet dress,
With carols soft as ere before,
Again thou com'st our homes to bless.
O blissful bird! O happy life!
No sorrow overshadows thee.
Thine is a life without alloy,
In merry springtime revelry.
No sorrow overshadows thee.
Thine is a life without alloy,
In merry springtime revelry.
1922
The Springtime Thrush
How oft at eye thy flutelike trill,
Like evening zephyr floats o'er hill.
The starlit sky, the rising moon,
Ere comes the day, too soon, too soon.
Like evening zephyr floats o'er hill.
The starlit sky, the rising moon,
Ere comes the day, too soon, too soon.
While perched on swaying bough so high,
Thy thrilling notes the harp defy;
While glowworms circle 'neath thy feet,
Thy nightly song we wait to greet.
Thy thrilling notes the harp defy;
While glowworms circle 'neath thy feet,
Thy nightly song we wait to greet.
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