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Ballads of Irish chivalry

By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce

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TO A BIRD.
  
  


209

TO A BIRD.

I

Whence art thou, O delightful bird,
That sittest on the leafy bough?
Thy cheery note, so long unheard,
My sad soul calms and smooths my brow.
What sunny climes hast thou explored,
What wide seas' foam, what deserts' dearth,
Since first thy wings resplendent soared
Up from thy native spot of earth?

II

Thou need'st not at my greeting start,
For, comrade, I'll ne'er work thee harm,
Or fright thy little trusting heart,
Or spoil thy wing's refulgent charm.
Whence comest thou, O minstrel gay?
Perchance far far beyond the foam
Thou sat'st upon the wildwood spray
To sing beside my native home.

III

O comrade of the tuneful craft,
Could I but dream a song like thine,
I'd sing how summer breezes waft
Their perfumes round that spot:—how twine
The sweetbrier and the woodland rose
Through that blithe vale, my song should tell,
And how like wreaths of feathery snows
The hawthorn hedge blooms up the dell.

IV

Deep in my soul thy heavenly strain
Lights one great flash of memory;
I see that valley green again,
The rural home and guardian tree,

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The purple hill, the spreading wold,
The ruined tower and village spire,
Meadow and streamlet, as of old,
Bathed in the level sunset fire.

V

I hear the ringdove from the wood
Coo to his mate with plaintive call,
The skylark from his golden cloud,
The murmuring of the waterfall;
The merry milkmaid's roundelay,
The airy ploughboy's whistle keen,
The children at their jocund play
Around the hawthorn on the green.

VI

And those blithe friends of life's young day
Who danced beneath that blooming tree,
O minstrel, tell me where are they,
And have they all forgotten me?
Farewell! Thou spread'st thy shining wing
To visit isles beyond the foam.
Thou'rt gone—and where? Perchance to sing
My memory into hearts at home.