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159

CHARADE.

(Mocking-Bird.)

The boldest heart that ever yet
Was cased in mortal clay,
Rather than hear my first would face
An armèd host's array;
For by brute sufferance alone
The body's pains are borne,
But e'en the mind's unbending strength
Quails 'neath the sting of scorn.
My second comes with all things fair,
Spring sunshine, dews, and flowers,
And though it shuns the leafless bough,
Loves well the summer bowers.
Full many love its matin song,
But more its vesper hymn,
When twilight's gentle breezes wake
And the sunset's light grows dim.
My whole is born in southern clime,
Where summer rules the year;
Oft in the wilderness its strains
Delight the traveller's ear.
But like a patriot, stern and true,
It brooks no foreign shore,
And ere it reach a stranger land
Its life and song are o'er.