A SINGING BIRD IN THE CITY
Golden-throated, hath God sent thee for our comfort in the city?
Sweet, sweet I singing, singing all the day.
I said: Ah, the young Spring she will lure him from his pity.
And he'U seek the sunny distance in the May.
For all the other birds have left us lonely
That sought us when the hungry winter came;
Quick they forgot, and he remembered only,
But with the breath of Spring he'll fly the same.
For the daffodil is nodding, just awaking.
With a sunny ray imprisoned in its breast;
Over purple violets the hawthorn buds are breaking—
There a perfect Eden for a nest.
There, I said, the lazy cattle in the sunshine will be resting.
Dreaming in the pasture lands where summer airs blow sweet.
Or standing in the river to feel each slow wave cresting
In snowy pearl bracelets around their cloven feet.
But here they gasp and stumble, foot-sore and full of sorrow;
No question “Why these sufferings?” to the careless passer-by
In their patient weary eyes that shall see no fair tomorrow,
And find no balm of tears as they stagger on to die.
