The Robin - An 1805 Poem
By Rolla; Framingham, May 2, 1805.
- Hark! 'tis the Robin, that sings on the spray;
- How mournful the note! how solemn the lay!
- How aptly it strikes the gloom of the hour,
- While evening o'erspreads the listner's bower,
- Hark, Emily, mark the languishing fall!
- What sorrows of song her bosom inthrall!
- She seems to regret, that Spring must depart,
- Be rob'd of its charms, and I of my heart.
- Alas, the repines that Winter is nigh,
- To freeze with its cold the languishing sigh;
- Alas, the regrets the frost it must bring
- To chill with its blast the roses of Spring.
- But O that fond look will rifle my heart,
- And hear with its glance fair poetry's art;
- The Robin had mourn'd the evening in vain,
- Had not you, my love, assisted my strain.
- Ah! then forbear the fatal smile,
- And let me keep my heart a while.
June 3, 1805. Boston Independent Chronicle 37(2510): 4.