 | Forest Notes |  |
27
UNKNOWN SONGSTERS
The song-bird drops; the bird-song never dies.
The black frost strikes; the throstles's wee heart stops;
But Spring brings back the song, and none surmise
The song-bird drops.
The black frost strikes; the throstles's wee heart stops;
But Spring brings back the song, and none surmise
The song-bird drops.
Songsters there be, who never reach the tops
Of Fame's high boughs, but whose low melodies
Blend with the deeper shadows of the copse.
They die; yet song endures: we hear it rise
From other unknown throats. Death reaps his crops,
But new notes wake, although without a prize
The song-bird drops.
Of Fame's high boughs, but whose low melodies
Blend with the deeper shadows of the copse.
28
From other unknown throats. Death reaps his crops,
But new notes wake, although without a prize
The song-bird drops.
E.
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