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Wood-notes and Church-bells

By the Rev. Richard Wilton
 
 

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ON HEARING A THRUSH SING IN DECEMBER.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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ON HEARING A THRUSH SING IN DECEMBER.

Sweet bird, that singest on the leafless bough,
Charming December's transitory ray
With trills and warblings of melodious May;
Thy single voice holds us enraptured now
In Winter's silence. Tell us, What art thou?
A Mourner for the brightness past away?
A Prophet of some far-off vernal day,
Which shows to thee, perched high, its radiant brow?
Not so! No touches of a useless sorrow
For vanished bliss thy happy thoughts annoy;
No restless longings for a brighter morrow;
Thy heart and tongue are filled with present joy:
Man's Teacher thou, and of persuasive power,
To praise kind Heaven for mercies of the hour!