06 November 2013

The Bobolink - An 1885 Poem

By Bessie O. Cushing; written for the Western Rural.
From leafy spray and sedgy brink,
We hear his merry song;
The sky so bright, his heart so light,
He sings the whole day long;
No care he knows, his joy o'erflows;
The merry bobolink.
When tender flowers the dewdrops drink,
He sits, and swaying, sings
From a quivering throat, his silvery note
On the early stillness flings.
Those mornings in woodland bowers,
Oh, happy bobolink!
In clouds of gold the sunbeams sink,
And twilight shadows fall;
In the dewy balm of the evening calm,
We hear his cheery call;
Whether dawning day of sunset ray,
He's a merry bobolink.
September 26, 1885. Western Rural and American Stockman 23(39): 618. Literary feature.