 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
IV.
Sweet bird! the fresh, clear sprinkle of thy voiceCame quickening all the springs of trust and love.
What heart could hear such joy, and not rejoice?
Thou blithe remembrancer of field and grove,
Dropping thy fairy flute-notes from above,
Fresh message from the Beauty Infinite
That clasps the world around and fills it with delight!
| The bird and the bell, with other poems | |