 | Poems by James Rhoades |  |
42
THE THRUSH.
There sat a thrush on yon green bush;
He sang, as the morn uprose,
So sweet a song of love that is strong,
And of sorrow that finds repose,
He sang, as the morn uprose,
So sweet a song of love that is strong,
And of sorrow that finds repose,
That my heart with the thorn of anguish torn
Has left one longing only—
To sing to rest some human breast
As unbelov'd and lonely.
Has left one longing only—
To sing to rest some human breast
As unbelov'd and lonely.
| Poems by James Rhoades | |