 | Cuckoo songs |  |
96
Comfort
(To a Bird)
O my blackbird might grow pale,
Just to hear the nightingale.
Just to hear the nightingale.
Be not troubled, golden-throat,
He is singing, far away
In a country dim, remote,
Singing twixt the dark and day.
He is singing, far away
In a country dim, remote,
Singing twixt the dark and day.
Sleep, sweet, in your house of wattle,
By your tender mate and true;
Till 'tis time to call the cattle
From their dreams in grass and dew.
By your tender mate and true;
Till 'tis time to call the cattle
From their dreams in grass and dew.
Should you ask her, she will swear
There was never a voice like yours,
Nor such coat of silk and fur,
Nor such bright eyes full of lures.
There was never a voice like yours,
97
Nor such bright eyes full of lures.
So sing songs to your brown sweeting,
Let no cares disturb your rest,
While below her fond heart beating
Speckled eggs are in the nest.
Let no cares disturb your rest,
While below her fond heart beating
Speckled eggs are in the nest.
You've a house, and a house-mate,
Feathered daughters and a son;
So your duty to the State,
As bird-citizen you have done.
Feathered daughters and a son;
So your duty to the State,
As bird-citizen you have done.
Therefore shall he keep you waking?—
That brown bird of night, afar,
Singing songs, divine, heart-breaking,
Of a bird's love for a star.
That brown bird of night, afar,
Singing songs, divine, heart-breaking,
Of a bird's love for a star.
Yet my blackbird might grow pale
Just to hear the nightingale.
Just to hear the nightingale.
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