06 November 2013

Spring-Time - An 1870 Poem

By Mercie Boynston Lane. For the Chronicle.
My children's voices came to me,
In gladsome accents ringing out,
As clear and sweet as music free,
Soft gnashing from their hearts without.
The mellow rays of April's sun
A radiance sheds o'er all the earth,
Awakening bud and grasses fair,
And birdies filled with song and mirth.
With boot-tops high, and pants tucked in
My little boy in childish glee,
Runs to and fro to gather "gems,"
And brings his offerings unto me.
"Oh see, mama, what I have brought;
A wobin's nest; and not an egg!
Where do your pose the wobin is,
O tell me, mama, now, I beg?"
The little bird, my darling, is
Gone hunting for his mate to woo;
The nest was built a year ago,
But answers well for this year too.
Go put it back, just in its place,
For very soon will robin come
Chippering 'round the branches bare
To find its old and cherished home.
And then four little eggs will lay
In the old nest so soft and warm;
And in a week, or more, they say,
If naughty boys should do no harm,
Your little robins may be seen —
Your little mouths uplifted be,
Asking for food to keep them warm
In their sunny home, on the maple tree.
April 23, 1870. Western Reserve Chronicle 54(35): 1. Issued at Warren, Ohio.