06 November 2013

The Blue-Bird - An 1859 Poem

I am so blithe and glad to-day!
At morn I heard a blue-bird sing,
The blue-bird, warbling soul of Spring,
The prophet of the leafy May —
And I knew the violets under the tree
Would listen and look the bird to see,
Peeping timidly here and thee
In purple and odor to charm the air;
And the wind-flower lift is rose-veined cup
In the leaves of the old year, hurried up;
And all the delicate buds that bloom
On the moss-beds, deep in the forest gloom,
Would stir in their slumber, and catch the strain,
And dream of the sun and the April rain —
For Spring has come when the blue-bird sings,
And folds in the maple his glossy wings,
And the wind may blow, and the storm may fall,
But the voice of Summer is heard in all.
I am so blithe and glad to-day!
My heart, besides the blue-birds, sings,
And folds, serene, its weary wings,
And knows the hours lead on to May!
April 23, 1859. Dayton Daily Empire 10(81): 1. From the New York Independent. Also: April 28, 1859 in Highland Weekly News 22(52): 1.