 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
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THE WOOD-THRUSH.
“In dark, wet and gloomy weather, when scarce a single chirp is heard from any other bird, the clear notes of the wood-thrush thrill through the dropping woods, from morning to night, and it may truly be said that the sadder the day the sweeter is his song.”—
Wilson.
A bird with spotted throat and breast,
Is singing on the tallest tree,
While day is fading in the west,
In strains that with the time agree.
I know the little minstrel well—
His favorite haunts are also mine—
The silence of the shaded dell
O'erbrowed by hills of murmuring pine.
Is singing on the tallest tree,
While day is fading in the west,
In strains that with the time agree.
I know the little minstrel well—
His favorite haunts are also mine—
The silence of the shaded dell
O'erbrowed by hills of murmuring pine.
Breathe out thy mellow vesper lay,
While shadow drapes the listening skies;
Far in the forest-depths away
How plaintively the music dies!
With sunset, to their nests have flown
Gay birds that love the golden light,
And left thee in the woods alone
To welcome melancholy night:—
While shadow drapes the listening skies;
Far in the forest-depths away
How plaintively the music dies!
With sunset, to their nests have flown
Gay birds that love the golden light,
And left thee in the woods alone
To welcome melancholy night:—
And I am glad no warbler near
Responds to thy transporting strain,
For never will a mortal ear
List to such melody again.
Let other instruments be mute,
And Silence lock them in her cave—
Even the warble of a flute
Creeping by moonlight o'er the wave.
Responds to thy transporting strain,
For never will a mortal ear
List to such melody again.
Let other instruments be mute,
And Silence lock them in her cave—
Even the warble of a flute
Creeping by moonlight o'er the wave.
In murky weather, when the sun
Is hidden by a cloudy veil,
And the plumed wanderers, one by one,
Have hushed their pipes in wood and dale—
Delighted, often I have heard
Thy symphonies so clear and loud,
And wondered that a little bird
Was with a voice so sweet endowed.
Is hidden by a cloudy veil,
And the plumed wanderers, one by one,
Have hushed their pipes in wood and dale—
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Thy symphonies so clear and loud,
And wondered that a little bird
Was with a voice so sweet endowed.
Where alders overhang the stream
Thy mate's frail nest I have espied,
Protected from the noon-day beam
With its four gems in azure dyed:
Fit place to rear a singing brood
Was the wild scene that lay around,
While mocked the gray, majestic wood
Old, solemn Ocean's bass profound.
Thy mate's frail nest I have espied,
Protected from the noon-day beam
With its four gems in azure dyed:
Fit place to rear a singing brood
Was the wild scene that lay around,
While mocked the gray, majestic wood
Old, solemn Ocean's bass profound.
Shy, unobtrusive bird! thou art
An emblem, beautiful and meet,
Of the poor poet's weary heart
That loves in solitude to beat—
A lofty heart that finds relief,
And inspiration deep and strong,
When closeted with gloom and grief,
Its chords grow tremulous with song.
An emblem, beautiful and meet,
Of the poor poet's weary heart
That loves in solitude to beat—
A lofty heart that finds relief,
And inspiration deep and strong,
When closeted with gloom and grief,
Its chords grow tremulous with song.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |