 | Songs of Killarney |  |
163
GLAD THRUSH.
Hush! O hush!
For the yellow-throated thrush
Comes winging fleetly—
Whither? Hither,
The yellow-throated, mellow-noted thrush
Comes winging fleetly.
Singing, how sweetly,
“Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la.”
For the yellow-throated thrush
Comes winging fleetly—
Whither? Hither,
The yellow-throated, mellow-noted thrush
Comes winging fleetly.
Singing, how sweetly,
“Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la.”
Then hush! O hush!
My pipe of holly
Most melancholy;
For our sad song
Would greatly wrong
His carol jolly;
“Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la.”
My pipe of holly
164
For our sad song
Would greatly wrong
His carol jolly;
“Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la.”
He, perching thus,
Pipes back to us,—
“Light-hearted swain,
Thy jocund flute
To-day is mute.
O why refrain
Its mirthful strain
To pour; when I
From this tree nigh,
Am piping plain,
‘Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la?’”
And I reply,
“Sweet bird, because
Grief only was
In my flute's sigh,
Till you came by;
But your kwee-kwee
Of gushing glee,
Bids sorrow fly.
So, overhead,
Sing on kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la,
Till day is dead.”
Pipes back to us,—
“Light-hearted swain,
Thy jocund flute
To-day is mute.
O why refrain
Its mirthful strain
To pour; when I
From this tree nigh,
Am piping plain,
‘Kwee-kwee kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la?’”
165
“Sweet bird, because
Grief only was
In my flute's sigh,
Till you came by;
But your kwee-kwee
Of gushing glee,
Bids sorrow fly.
So, overhead,
Sing on kwee-kwee,
Trill-lilla-la,
Till day is dead.”
| Songs of Killarney | |