The Robin's Good-by
By Frank J. Ottarson.
- "'Tis Autumn, Robin-Redbreast said;
- "I may not longer tarry here;
- The sky is gray, the flower are dead,
- And nature mourns the flying year.
- When Spring returns, my mate and I
- Will come again to rear our young,
- And vocalize a melody
- That never poet wrote nor sung.
-
- "'Tis Autumn, and the sun is dim,
- As if his fire was merely gone;
- The breeze wails out a mournful hymn,
- And all the land is sad and lone.
- 'Tis Autumn, and the falling leaves
- Sail slowly down upon the wind,
- Leaving, like Death, when he bereaves
- The living germ of Hope behind.
-
- "'Tis Autumn: over land and main
- A veil of azure haze is thrown,
- As if the parent Heaven again
- Had claimed our planet for its own,
- And the blue vestments of the sky
- For dim, uncertain boundaries given,
- Till scarcely can the straining eye
- Tell which is earth or which is heaven.
-
- "'Tis autumn : even Greenwood's green,
- Wherein we built out little nest
- For danger sure is never seen
- Where loved ones lie in sacred rest
- Her green is faded: winter's snow
- Thick o'er the ground will so soon be teased,
- To shield the graves we use below
- From bitter wind and biting frost.
-
- "'Tis Autumn : we must hie away.
- Nor fold a wing by day or night
- Until we hear the Gulf waves say,
- 'Come, welcome Robin, here alight;
- Here, where the roses blush and glow
- All through the warm and drowsy year,
- And rich magnolia perfumes flow
- In floods upon the atmosphere.
-
- "'Tis Autumn : Bobolink has come;
- The mocking-bird your welcome sings;
- Bob tells about his northern home,
- And pleasant news of Robin brings, '"
- And Robin said , "The Southern wind
- Is whispering, 'Birdie, do not wait:
- Tell sparrow sweet your nest to mind,
- And hasten it is getting late.'
- Harper's Bazaar.
September 25, 1873. Woodstock Spirit of the Age 33(49): 4.>