 | Hagar |  |
145
THE ROBIN.
As I sit by my window, and hear the winds blow,
Which whiten the maples, and dimple the stream;
While I gaze on the sky, and the green earth below,
And weave with sweet Fancy, full many a dream.
Which whiten the maples, and dimple the stream;
While I gaze on the sky, and the green earth below,
And weave with sweet Fancy, full many a dream.
'Tis the song of the robin, that breaketh the spell,
Which comes 'neath the maple tree day after day;
I have heard it so oft, that I know it right well,
For the heart in its music, comes gushing alway.
Which comes 'neath the maple tree day after day;
I have heard it so oft, that I know it right well,
For the heart in its music, comes gushing alway.
Far up in the maple in her bower of green,
Safely nestled away from the wind and the rain,
There sitteth in patience, our robin's dear queen;
And bends her to list to his love-burdened strain.
Safely nestled away from the wind and the rain,
There sitteth in patience, our robin's dear queen;
And bends her to list to his love-burdened strain.
Sing on little bird, as I hear thy sweet song,
I dream what a beautiful world this might be;
Could we banish afar, all oppression and wrong,
And sing as thou singest to thy mate in the tree.
I dream what a beautiful world this might be;
Could we banish afar, all oppression and wrong,
And sing as thou singest to thy mate in the tree.
| Hagar | |