 | The Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
93
ROBIN BADFELLOW.
Four bluish eggs all in the moss!
Soft-lined home on the cherry-bough!
Life is trouble, and love is loss,—
There 's only one robin now!
Soft-lined home on the cherry-bough!
Life is trouble, and love is loss,—
There 's only one robin now!
O robin up in the cherry-tree,
Singing your soul away,
Great is the grief befallen me,
And how can you be so gay?
Singing your soul away,
Great is the grief befallen me,
And how can you be so gay?
Long ago when you cried in the nest,
The last of the sickly brood,
Scarcely a pin-feather warming your breast,
Who was it brought you food?
The last of the sickly brood,
Scarcely a pin-feather warming your breast,
Who was it brought you food?
Who said, ‘Music, come fill his throat,
Or ever the May be fled?’
Who was it loved the wee sweet note
And the bosom 's sea-shell red?
Or ever the May be fled?’
Who was it loved the wee sweet note
And the bosom 's sea-shell red?
94
Who said, ‘Cherries, grow ripe and big,
Black and ripe for this bird of mine?’
How little bright-bosom bends the twig,
Sipping the black-heart's wine!
Black and ripe for this bird of mine?’
How little bright-bosom bends the twig,
Sipping the black-heart's wine!
Now that my days and nights are woe,
Now that I weep for love's dear sake,—
There you go singing away as though
Never a heart could break!
Now that I weep for love's dear sake,—
There you go singing away as though
Never a heart could break!
| The Poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |