WERE I A BIRD

Were I a bird free born to fly

Aloof on two wee, downy wings,

My canopy would be the sky

When rosy morn its dawning springs.

Were I a bird I'd sweetly sing

Earth's vesper song in tree-tops high,

And chant the carol of the Spring

To every weary passer by.

Were I a bird, the sweetest voice

That human ear has ever heard,—

The mocking-bird would be my choice,

For he's the sweetest singing bird!

Were I a bird my life would be

In keeping with the Will divine —

I'd sing His carols full and free

In spreading oak and cony pine!

Were I a bird through air I'd roam,

Just flitting on the morning breeze,

In search of summer's sunny dome,

To live contentedly at ease.

Were I a bird I'd sing a tune

For farmers seeking shady rest

Beneath the spreading oak in June,

In swinging boughs that rock my nest.

Were I a bird I'd scale the cliff

When dawns the bleak December day,

Far from the ice and snow I'd shift

Until the fairest day in May!

Were I a bird, a mocking-bird,

The King of birdie's singing sons,

My music would fore'er be heard

As I sweet sang to cheerless ones.

Were I a bird I'd seek my rest

When jocund Day blows out his light;

In boughs that hover o'er my nest

I'd sweetly sing, “Good Night, Good Night!”