BABY OR BIRD?
"But is he a Baby or a Bird?"
Sometimes I fancy I do not know;
His voice is as sweet as I ever heard
Far up where the light leaves blow.
Sometimes I fancy I do not know;
His voice is as sweet as I ever heard
Far up where the light leaves blow.
Then his lovely eyes, I think, would see
As clear as a Bird's in the upper air;
And his red-brown head, it seems to me,
Would do for a Bird to bear.
As clear as a Bird's in the upper air;
And his red-brown head, it seems to me,
Would do for a Bird to bear.
"If he were a Bird," you wisely say,
"He would have some wings to know him by:"
Ah, he has wings, that are flying away
For ever—how fast they fly!
"He would have some wings to know him by:"
Ah, he has wings, that are flying away
For ever—how fast they fly!
They are flying with him, by day, by night;
Under suns and stars, over storm and snow,
These fair, fine wings, that elude the sight,
In softest silence they go.
Under suns and stars, over storm and snow,
These fair, fine wings, that elude the sight,
In softest silence they go.
Come, kiss him as often as you may—
Hush, never talk of this time next year,
For the same small Bird that we pet to-day,
To-morrow is never here!
Hush, never talk of this time next year,
For the same small Bird that we pet to-day,
To-morrow is never here!
