 | Song in September |  |
145
THE PUZZLED THRUSH
For sure there's something in my bones to-day
That makes my body restless as a breeze,
And drives me, whimsical, from spray to spray
In search of what is never in the trees.
The rosy goodwife's bunching snowdrops took
Me steadily by charm a fortnight since,
But now the garden is a fevered nook—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat on the quince.
That makes my body restless as a breeze,
And drives me, whimsical, from spray to spray
In search of what is never in the trees.
The rosy goodwife's bunching snowdrops took
Me steadily by charm a fortnight since,
But now the garden is a fevered nook—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat on the quince.
I asked the cocksure Robin if he knew
The kind of ailment bubbling in my breast.
He flung his noddle backward, eyed the blue,
And puffed the scarlet jersey on his chest:
‘My precious hobbledehoy’ quoth he, ‘'tis March!
Expect a pang, for Love is in the air.’
On this he chased Robina to a larch—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat in the pear.
The kind of ailment bubbling in my breast.
He flung his noddle backward, eyed the blue,
And puffed the scarlet jersey on his chest:
‘My precious hobbledehoy’ quoth he, ‘'tis March!
Expect a pang, for Love is in the air.’
On this he chased Robina to a larch—
So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat in the pear.
146
'Tis true I've wanted very much all day
To know where Nancy Nonesuch has removed,
And why she's changed her January way
Of suffering me beside her unreproved.
Ah! There she stands in sunshine at the brink
Of yonder thread of stream, with eyes more bright
Than water's self! The dear! I think—I think
(So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat) Robin's right!
To know where Nancy Nonesuch has removed,
And why she's changed her January way
Of suffering me beside her unreproved.
Ah! There she stands in sunshine at the brink
Of yonder thread of stream, with eyes more bright
Than water's self! The dear! I think—I think
(So mused Sir Feathery Fullthroat) Robin's right!
| Song in September | |