 | Poems |  |
196
TO A BLACKBIRD,
Singing in the morning on the Ides of March.
Thou seeming merry, tuneful thing,
That hail'st for me the early spring!
Hast thou no cause for sorrowing
At such a scene?
Or dost thou rouse thyself to sing,
Thy grief to screen?
That hail'st for me the early spring!
Hast thou no cause for sorrowing
At such a scene?
Or dost thou rouse thyself to sing,
Thy grief to screen?
And dost thou see without alarm
Far in the north the gathering storm?
Unmindful of thy fragile form,
'T will beat on thee!
And where 's thy sheltering covert warm,
To which to flee?
Far in the north the gathering storm?
Unmindful of thy fragile form,
'T will beat on thee!
And where 's thy sheltering covert warm,
To which to flee?
Across the chequered fields of snow
The visage-blackening breezes blow;
And vegetation lies below
Its winter hood!
Then where, poor starveling, wilt thou go
To seek thy food?
The visage-blackening breezes blow;
And vegetation lies below
Its winter hood!
Then where, poor starveling, wilt thou go
To seek thy food?
Or dost thou live and never think
About to-morrow's meat and drink?
Is hope the sole connecting link
Binds thee to life?
Alas! without it man would sink
When ruin's rife!
About to-morrow's meat and drink?
Is hope the sole connecting link
Binds thee to life?
Alas! without it man would sink
When ruin's rife!
Thy cheer, despite thy gloomy case,
Is like to some of human race;
How oft do smiles illume the face,
And smiles impart,
When in its secret hiding place
Stern is the heart!
Is like to some of human race;
How oft do smiles illume the face,
And smiles impart,
When in its secret hiding place
Stern is the heart!
197
For one who has the heart to do,
Far better is it thus to show
A cheerful look when worn with wo,
And cankering ill.
'T will make his progress calm and slow
In life's down-hill.
Far better is it thus to show
A cheerful look when worn with wo,
And cankering ill.
'T will make his progress calm and slow
In life's down-hill.
Oh, heaven, bestow the gracious gift!
Man's heart above his sorrows lift,
Cast dark despondency adrift
In floods of light,
And give the gloomy veil a rift
That clouds his sight.
Man's heart above his sorrows lift,
Cast dark despondency adrift
In floods of light,
And give the gloomy veil a rift
That clouds his sight.
Give him a hope that shall not fail;
And when life's winter-giving gale
Shall in his ears a requiem wail—
Like yon sweet thing,
He'll with prophetic vision hail
Eternal Spring.
And when life's winter-giving gale
Shall in his ears a requiem wail—
Like yon sweet thing,
He'll with prophetic vision hail
Eternal Spring.
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