 | Twilight Songs |  |
19
THE FIRST SINGING.
When I shall come one evening to God's house on the hill,
I ask no singing angels by lintel or window-sill,
Nor any harp or cithern, but only the wild song
The thrush and blackbird sang when I was young.
I ask no singing angels by lintel or window-sill,
Nor any harp or cithern, but only the wild song
The thrush and blackbird sang when I was young.
Give me no fading Summer and no unwithering wreath,
But the year in its seasons and new life after death,
And in the heart of Winter the joys yet to be,
And the blackbird singing on a rime-pale tree.
But the year in its seasons and new life after death,
And in the heart of Winter the joys yet to be,
And the blackbird singing on a rime-pale tree.
O Paradise skies, be cloudy sometimes lest I should pine
For the soft mists and raining in that wild land of mine,
And the blackbird singing bravely amid the dripping boughs,
And the thrush with his talking of a love-lit house.
For the soft mists and raining in that wild land of mine,
And the blackbird singing bravely amid the dripping boughs,
And the thrush with his talking of a love-lit house.
I should miss, 'mid the tuning of the high heavenly choir,
The song of the blackbird telling my heart's desire,
Amid the joy and glory and the old world made new,
The thirst for the blackbird would break my heart in two.
The song of the blackbird telling my heart's desire,
20
The thirst for the blackbird would break my heart in two.
I think where I'll be going the Lord will not forget
The joys He gave His people; sure He'll remember yet!
He'll keep a cloud, a raining upon the blue and gold
And the thrush and the blackbird their songs in the cold.
The joys He gave His people; sure He'll remember yet!
He'll keep a cloud, a raining upon the blue and gold
And the thrush and the blackbird their songs in the cold.
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