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189
GOING OF THE SUMMER BIRDS.
Summer, Summer has passed away,
And we, her birds, must fly;
We cannot build, nor sing, nor stay,
When her sweet nurslings die!
For myrtle, rose, and orange bowers,
Where sparkling streams run free,
We'll stretch these little wings of ours,
And speed beyond the sea.
And we, her birds, must fly;
We cannot build, nor sing, nor stay,
When her sweet nurslings die!
For myrtle, rose, and orange bowers,
Where sparkling streams run free,
We'll stretch these little wings of ours,
And speed beyond the sea.
Autumn, Autumn to you may hold
Her freighted golden horn;
But we would see the bloom unfold,
Before the fruits are born.
These faded leaves, from off the tree,
Will soon to earth be thrown,
And sad the boughs as birds would be
With all their plumage gone.
Her freighted golden horn;
But we would see the bloom unfold,
Before the fruits are born.
These faded leaves, from off the tree,
Will soon to earth be thrown,
And sad the boughs as birds would be
With all their plumage gone.
Winter, Winter will soon be here,
To white the hills and dells,
And to your numbed or tingling ear
To shake his noisy bells.
Where Summer spread her flowery green,
He'll heap his ice and snow,
Till not a grass or leaf is seen,—
The Pee-dees told us so.
To white the hills and dells,
And to your numbed or tingling ear
To shake his noisy bells.
Where Summer spread her flowery green,
He'll heap his ice and snow,
Till not a grass or leaf is seen,—
The Pee-dees told us so.
190
Ready, ready, our pinions now
Where Summer 's gone to fly:
To stiffening air, and shivering bough,
We bid a kind good-by!
Those warmer skies will clear our notes,
And tune our voices, where
The glistening insect gayly floats
On bland and balmy air.
Where Summer 's gone to fly:
To stiffening air, and shivering bough,
We bid a kind good-by!
Those warmer skies will clear our notes,
And tune our voices, where
The glistening insect gayly floats
On bland and balmy air.
Budding, budding, when joyful Spring
Comes through the groves and bowers,
We'll come to nestle here, and sing
To you, among the flowers.
ur Leader's wing spans earth and sky;
He makes the birdies true;
And as the vernal sun on high,
O, we'll come back to you!
Comes through the groves and bowers,
We'll come to nestle here, and sing
To you, among the flowers.
ur Leader's wing spans earth and sky;
He makes the birdies true;
And as the vernal sun on high,
O, we'll come back to you!
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