The Redwing

I hear you, Brother, I hear you,

Down in the alder swamp,

Springing your woodland whistle

To herald the April pomp!

First of the moving vanguard,

In front of the spring you come,

Where flooded waters sparkle

And streams in the twilight hum.

You sound the note of the chorus

By meadow and woodland pond,

Till, one after one up-piping,

A myriad throats respond.

I see you, Brother, I see you,

With scarlet under your wing,

Flash through the ruddy maples,

Leading the pageant of spring.

Earth has put off her raiment

Wintry and worn and old,

For the robe of a fair young sibyl.

Dancing in green and gold.

I heed you, Brother. To-morrow

I, too, in the great employ,

Will shed my old coat of sorrow

For a brand-new garment of joy.