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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
424
LXXII. IF I WERE A BIRD THAT SINGS.
If I were a bird that sings,
In the joy of a spirit free;
If wishes were only wings,
How soon I would be with thee!
In the joy of a spirit free;
If wishes were only wings,
How soon I would be with thee!
As the lark soars at sunrise alone,
While the air with his rapture rings,
Thy smile I would meet, mine own,
If wishes were only wings!
While the air with his rapture rings,
Thy smile I would meet, mine own,
If wishes were only wings!
'Tis only when sorrow like this
A shade o'er my spirit flings,
'Tis only when thee I miss,
That I wish my wishes were wings.
A shade o'er my spirit flings,
'Tis only when thee I miss,
That I wish my wishes were wings.
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |