 | Song in September |  |
164
THE ROBIN
Bird of the scarlet breast,
Whose genius is not hidden,
But, though by Winter chidden,
Preserves a glorious zest,
Could I but sing as thou
Upon my heart's bare bough!
Whose genius is not hidden,
But, though by Winter chidden,
Preserves a glorious zest,
Could I but sing as thou
Upon my heart's bare bough!
Could I, when storms of grief
Have buffeted and shaken,
Be never so forsaken
But that of song the leaf,
The bud, the flower, should dress
My other nakedness!
Have buffeted and shaken,
Be never so forsaken
But that of song the leaf,
The bud, the flower, should dress
My other nakedness!
Could I from youth to age
Remember to enclose thee,
And all thy wisdom shows me,
Within my bosom's cage,
Keeping as balm for smart
A redbreast in my heart!
Remember to enclose thee,
And all thy wisdom shows me,
Within my bosom's cage,
Keeping as balm for smart
A redbreast in my heart!
| Song in September | |