The Birds of April - A May 1854 Poem
Original Poetry written for the Sunbury American.
- Gloomily the dawn is breaking
- Through the clouds of misty sleet,
- Angry winds, the casement shaking
- 'Gainst the windows rudely best;
- Earth Reeks with the chilling shower,
- Fields are patch-worked o'er with snow,
- Trees are leafless, scarce a flower
- Or a blossom dares to blow.
-
- Hark! from ice barked branches ringing,
- Comes sweet music to the ear,
- Birds with joyous notes are singing
- Mating praises loud and clear;
- Mingling with the tempest's rushing
- Through the boughs so cold and bare,
- Softly as though it were gushing
- Through a rose-perfumed air.
-
- Joyfully when northward winging
- From a mild and sunny chase,
- Where rich odors wide are flinging
- Every mange tree and home.
- They thought not of snow flakes sending
- Dampness through their plumage bright,
- Not of wintry rain descending
- On them shelterless by night.
-
- Trees with blossoms whitened over,
- Leafy canopies of green.
- Violets gemming fields of clover
- Where bright waters flow between,
- Warmest sunshine softly beaming
- Over valley, hill and bourne
- Scarlet bowers with beauty teeming,
- Oft had welcomed their return.
-
- Though the scene has changed so sadly,
- Bly tho these birdlings are and gay,
- Each his wild note carols gladly,
- As at dawn of summer's day'
- Not a plaintive sound revealing
- Discontent on fear, or pain
- All these sufferings concealing
- In that sweetly swelling strain.
-
- Soulless warbling little creatures,
- Seeming made for sunny hours,
- Ye are truly solemn teachers
- To these wayward hearts of ours,
- That oft faint with timid weakness
- When misfortune's darts are hurled,
- And refuse to bear with meekness
- All the trials of this world.
Sunbury, Penna.
May 27, 1854. Sunbury American 7(9): 1, new series.