To a Mocking-Bird - An 1843 Poem
Florida, March 10, 1842. For the Tribune.
- Bird, that sittest on the spray
- Trilling to the fadeless leaf,
- Sweetest music all the day,
- Breathing not a note of grief.
- Welcome! thou hast touched my heart,
- Tears have gathered to my eye;
- Messenger of Joy thou art,
- I am glad when thou art nigh.
- Whence are all thy silver tones,
- Tinkling like a merry bell?
- Which the heart responsive owns
- Sweeter than the tongue may tell?
- Stealing gently o'er the soul,
- Giving mirth they cannot take,
- As successive ripples roil
- O'er the breeze-enchanted lake?
- Sing! O, do not cease thy lay!
- Swell again thy tiny throat!
- Tones of loved ones far away,
- Dwell in every warbled note!
- Tones of loved ones will they die?
- Will they cease their song as thou?
- Raise again thine anthem high,
- From the old oak's mossy bough.
- Thanks! thy song comes sweet and clear,
- Softer, gladder than before;
- Thou, upon the ravished ear,
- Unmixed melody dost pour.
- Telling of the upper skies
- Music mortals may not hear
- Unto Him as thine shall rise,
- Through the never-fading year!
June 6, 1843. New York Daily Tribune 3(50): 4.