Songs and Lyrics | ||
50
To a Startled Bird.
Fly not away, wee birdie, pray!
No weasels we, no evil-bringers,
Would make thee bear the pangs that tear
Too oft the hearts of sweetest singers.
No weasels we, no evil-bringers,
Would make thee bear the pangs that tear
Too oft the hearts of sweetest singers.
Long may thy nest with eggs be blest,
And prove with these brown four, yet fountains
Of tender lays to charm the days
Of future climbers of the mountains.
And prove with these brown four, yet fountains
Of tender lays to charm the days
Of future climbers of the mountains.
Songs and Lyrics | ||