The Mocking Bird - An 1859 Poem
By Judge Meek.
- From the vale, what music ringing
- Fills the bosom of the night :
- On the sense, entranced flinging
- Spells of witchery and delight!
- O'er magnolia, lime and cedar,
- From yon locust top it swells,
- Like the chant of serenader,
- Or the rhyme of silver bells;
- Listen! dearest, listen to it!
- Sweeter sounds were never heard;
- 'Tis the song of that wild poet
- Mimmic and minstreal Mocking Bird.
-
- See him, swinging in his glory,
- On yon topmost bending limb,
- Carrolling his amorous story,
- Like some wild crusader's hymn!
- Now it taints in tones delicious
- As the first low vows of love!
- Now it breaks in swells capricious,
- All the moonlight vale above!
- Listen! dearest, etc.
-
- Why is't thus, this sylvan Petrarch
- Pours all night his serenade?
- 'Tis for some proud woodland Laura,
- His sad sonnets are all made :
- But be changed now his measure
- Gladness building from his mouth
- Jest, and jibe, and mimic pleasure
- Winged Anaeroan of the South!
- Listen! dearest, etc.
-
- Bird of music, wit and gladness,
- Troubadour of sunny clime,
- Disenchanter of all sadness
- Would thine are where in my rhymes,
- O'er the heart that's beating by me,
- I would weave a spell divine :
- Is there aught she could deny me,
- Drinking in such strains as thine?
- Listen, dearest, etc.
March 26, 1859. Keowee Courier 10(35): 1.