Fordham, Mary Weston
|TO THE MOCK-BIRD.|
Bird of the woodland, sing me a song,
Fain would I list to thee, all the day long.
Out from thy cosy nest, 'mid leafy bower,
Lift high thy tuneful voice--'tis summer's hour.
Bird of the forest, with voice sublime,
Gladdening with thy music all summer time,
E'en while the Autumn's winds bend low the trees,
Sweetly still thy carols float with the breeze.
Queen of the song-realm, what doest thou?
Up amid the leaflets, rocking on the bough,
Ah! little trickster, building thee a nest,
Cosy, soft and warm, for thy wee ones to rest.
Bird of the south-land, haste thee and bring
Tributes of thy melody, welcoming the spring,
Say to sombre winter--up and away,
This my time of minstrelsy, bright, sunny May