The Thrush

Across the land came a magic word

When the earth was bare and lonely,

And I sit and sing of the joyous spring,

For‘ twas I who heard, I only!

Then dreams came by, of the gladsome days,

Of many a wayside posy;

For a crocus peeps where the wild rose sleeps,

And the willow wands are rosy!

Oh! the time to be! When the paths are green,

When the primrose-gold is lying

‘ Neath the hazel spray, where the catkins sway,

And the dear south wind comes sigh- ing.

My mate and I, we shall build a nest,

So snug and warm and cosy,

When the kingcups gleam on the meadow stream,

Where the willow wands are rosy!