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Sonnets

By Emily Pfeiffer: Revised and Enlarged Ed.

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65

I.TO A FLEDGLING ROBIN.

ROBIN, thou art too young as yet to wear
The badge of robinhood in full confest—
The burning breast-plate on the conscious breast—
And hast not learnt to build, to sing, or care;
Only to live, filled with the liberal air,
Which, when it gently breathed from south or west,
Found and o'erflowed thee in thy sheltered nest
To dwell as marrow in thy feathers fair.
I, weary thinker 'neath the aspen trees,
See thee win past me, lightsome as a bubble—
No labouring bark, with purblind thought to steer it,
But a plumed will that rules with sovereign ease;
Approach, glad life, as free of doubt as trouble—
I feel as if in presence of a spirit.

66

II.TO THE SAME, ON BEGINNING HIS SONG.

SIT at my table, welcome guest, and sing
The olden song, with young unpractised throat;
I hold my breath to hear the perfect note
Thy tender organs cannot yet make ring.
Sing to me, unpaired fledgling of the spring,
Sing, solace me, as if I were thy mate;
Teach me fond patience as I sit and wait,
Brooding quick thoughts with unprogressive wing.
Thy song is faint as breath of unblown flowers,
And only that it shakes thy budding breast,
I could have deemed it homeless; as I hear it,
With lowered eyelids and suspended powers,
I, too, from doubt, and toil, and strain find rest,
And, Spirit! seem to hear thee in the spirit.