SONGS OF THE FIELDS AND WOODS

O sweetest bird that ever sang

In notes of wild rejoicing;

Thine even-song as first it rang,

Was thrilling in its voicing!

I felt thy rapture as I heard

Thy song in all its beauty;

To me it scarce seemed but a bird;

‘ Twas life, and love, and duty!

I could not see thy tiny form,

As softly closed the gloaming;

And like a wanderer in the storm

My heart was blindly roaming.

While, as thy song rang pure and clear

O'er sweet smell of the haying,

Mem'ry sped back through many a year,

Both light and shade displaying.

And still thy notes of reed-like tone

Came clear o'er mead and river,

With tender meaning all its own,

And trilled and trilled forever!

“O heart,” it sang, “let thine own life

Become a song to others,

That thou mayst count them in the strife

Not alien, but as brothers!

Sing on, sing on, thy notes repeat,

Sing life, and love, and duty,

That mystic three whose names replete

Are e'er with heavenly beauty.

Sing life, the gift of ray divine

That pierced the gloom of even;

The first upon our path to shine,

A heritage of Heaven!

And love — oh, what were life without

This second gift eternal,

That bids the glad earth blossom out

In summer's garb supernal!

Yet love and life were both in vain

Were duty not a flower

That springs beneath the blessed rain

To crown Life's darkest hour!”

Not unto me a bird, that eve,

In notes of earth was singing,

But a pure voice its way did cleave

From Heaven its message bringing!