[Poems by Gallagher in] The Hesperian Tree An Annual of the Ohio Valley - 1900 |
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THE BROWN THRUSH |
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 | [Poems by Gallagher in] The Hesperian Tree |  |
II
THE BROWN THRUSH
Brown-mantled bird that in the dim, old forest,
Which stands far-spreading in my own loved West,
At dewy eve and purple morn outpourest
The sweet, wild melodies that thrill thy breast,—
How like to thine were my young heart's libations,
Poured daily to the Giver of all good!
How like our lone and simple ministrations
At God's green altars in the deep and hallowed wood!
Which stands far-spreading in my own loved West,
At dewy eve and purple morn outpourest
The sweet, wild melodies that thrill thy breast,—
How like to thine were my young heart's libations,
Poured daily to the Giver of all good!
How like our lone and simple ministrations
At God's green altars in the deep and hallowed wood!
We trilled our morn and evening songs together,
And twittered 'neath green leaves at sultry noon;
We kept like silence in ungenial weather,
And never knew blue skies come back too soon.
We sang not for the world; we sang not even
For those we loved; we could not help but sing—
There was such beauty in the earth and heaven,
Such music in our hearts, such joy in everything!
And twittered 'neath green leaves at sultry noon;
We kept like silence in ungenial weather,
And never knew blue skies come back too soon.
We sang not for the world; we sang not even
For those we loved; we could not help but sing—
There was such beauty in the earth and heaven,
Such music in our hearts, such joy in everything!
Wild warbler of the woods! I hear thee only
At intervals of weary seasons now;
Yet while through dusty streets I hasten, lonely
And sad at heart, with cares upon my brow,
There comes from the green aisles of the old forest
A gushing melody of the old days;
And I again am with thee, where thou pourest
In gladness unto God the measure of thy praise.
At intervals of weary seasons now;
Yet while through dusty streets I hasten, lonely
And sad at heart, with cares upon my brow,
There comes from the green aisles of the old forest
A gushing melody of the old days;
And I again am with thee, where thou pourest
In gladness unto God the measure of thy praise.
| [Poems by Gallagher in] The Hesperian Tree | |