Impromptu. To a Blue Bird,
Singing on a cold frosty morning, after several warm days.
- Come hither, sweet bird, the cold wind hath harmed thee,
- Come warm they chill'd limbs, and partake my repast;
- A few sunny days from the covert have charmed thee,
- As hope told thee, falsely, the winter was past.
- Thy song of the spring a sweet foretaste has given,
- Of delights ever new, ever smiling and gay,
- Of young buds, and fresh flowers, and the soft blue of Heaven,
- The rich verdure of earth, and the warm airs of May.
- In thy fate, hapless bird, O! 'tis plain to discover
- An emblem of life in its early spring morn,
- When the young heart comes forth with hope glowing all over,
- And shrinks at the touch of the cold world's chill scorn.
- Myra. February 19, 1824.