THE SONG-SPARROW
WHEN plowmen ridge the steamy brown,And yearning meadows sprout to green,And all the spires and towers of townBlent soft with wavering mists are seen:When quickened woods in freshening hueAlong Mount Royal billowy swell,When airs caress and May is new,Oh, then my shy bird sings so well!Because the blood-roots flock in white,And blossomed branches scent the air,And mounds with trillium flags are dight,And myriad dells of violets rare;Because such velvet leaves unclose,And newborn rills all chiming ring,And blue the dear St Lawrence flows—My timid bird is forced to sing.A joyful flourish lilted clear,—Four notes—then fails the frolic song,And memories of a vanished yearThe wistful cadences prolong:"A vanished year—O, heart too sore—I cannot sing;" thus ends the lay:Long silence, then awakes once moreHis song, ecstatic of the May!
WHEN plowmen ridge the steamy brown,And yearning meadows sprout to green,And all the spires and towers of townBlent soft with wavering mists are seen:When quickened woods in freshening hueAlong Mount Royal billowy swell,When airs caress and May is new,Oh, then my shy bird sings so well!Because the blood-roots flock in white,And blossomed branches scent the air,And mounds with trillium flags are dight,And myriad dells of violets rare;Because such velvet leaves unclose,And newborn rills all chiming ring,And blue the dear St Lawrence flows—My timid bird is forced to sing.A joyful flourish lilted clear,—Four notes—then fails the frolic song,And memories of a vanished yearThe wistful cadences prolong:"A vanished year—O, heart too sore—I cannot sing;" thus ends the lay:Long silence, then awakes once moreHis song, ecstatic of the May!
WHEN plowmen ridge the steamy brown,And yearning meadows sprout to green,And all the spires and towers of townBlent soft with wavering mists are seen:When quickened woods in freshening hueAlong Mount Royal billowy swell,When airs caress and May is new,Oh, then my shy bird sings so well!
WHEN plowmen ridge the steamy brown,
And yearning meadows sprout to green,
And all the spires and towers of town
Blent soft with wavering mists are seen:
When quickened woods in freshening hue
Along Mount Royal billowy swell,
When airs caress and May is new,
Oh, then my shy bird sings so well!
Because the blood-roots flock in white,And blossomed branches scent the air,And mounds with trillium flags are dight,And myriad dells of violets rare;Because such velvet leaves unclose,And newborn rills all chiming ring,And blue the dear St Lawrence flows—My timid bird is forced to sing.
Because the blood-roots flock in white,
And blossomed branches scent the air,
And mounds with trillium flags are dight,
And myriad dells of violets rare;
Because such velvet leaves unclose,
And newborn rills all chiming ring,
And blue the dear St Lawrence flows—
My timid bird is forced to sing.
A joyful flourish lilted clear,—Four notes—then fails the frolic song,And memories of a vanished yearThe wistful cadences prolong:"A vanished year—O, heart too sore—I cannot sing;" thus ends the lay:Long silence, then awakes once moreHis song, ecstatic of the May!
A joyful flourish lilted clear,—
Four notes—then fails the frolic song,
And memories of a vanished year
The wistful cadences prolong:
"A vanished year—O, heart too sore—
I cannot sing;" thus ends the lay:
Long silence, then awakes once more
His song, ecstatic of the May!