 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
124
SPRING TWILIGHT
Singing in the rain, robin?
Rippling out so fast
All thy flute-like notes, as if
This singing were thy last!
Rippling out so fast
All thy flute-like notes, as if
This singing were thy last!
After sundown, too, robin?
Though the fields are dim,
And the trees grow dark and still,
Dripping from leaf and limb.
Though the fields are dim,
And the trees grow dark and still,
Dripping from leaf and limb.
'T is heart-broken music,—
That sweet, faltering strain,—
Like a mingled memory,
Half ecstasy, half pain.
That sweet, faltering strain,—
Like a mingled memory,
Half ecstasy, half pain.
Surely thus to sing, robin,
Thou must have in sight
Beautiful skies behind the shower,
And dawn beyond the night.
Thou must have in sight
Beautiful skies behind the shower,
And dawn beyond the night.
Would thy faith were mine, robin!
Then, though night were long,
All its silent hours should melt
Their sorrow into song.
Then, though night were long,
All its silent hours should melt
Their sorrow into song.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |