The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/On the Tragic Death of Martha's Song-Bird
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On the Tragic Death of Martha's Song-Bird
This little bird became strangled by a single hair, and was found suspended by it—dead.
O, my little song-bird,
How sad thy early fate!
A songless little bird-home,
A songless little mate!
How sad thy early fate!
A songless little bird-home,
A songless little mate!
What cruel fate befell thee.
Blithe songster of the air?
In a little berry-bush,
Thy home was built with care.
Blithe songster of the air?
In a little berry-bush,
Thy home was built with care.
Prospective little mother,
What dreams of bliss were thine
Four spheres of crystal azure,
What love in their design!
What dreams of bliss were thine
Four spheres of crystal azure,
What love in their design!
Secrecy, kind Nature gave,
To peering eyes elate;
Thy little home with babies four,
But now how wrecked by Fate!
To peering eyes elate;
Thy little home with babies four,
But now how wrecked by Fate!
Here beneath the berry-bush,
A new-made grave we see,
Enshrined by loyal, loving hands—
Yet no bird sings for me.
A new-made grave we see,
Enshrined by loyal, loving hands—
Yet no bird sings for me.
Vista Buena, June, 1920