The Early Blue Bird - A Poem from 1860

By Mrs. L.H. Sigourny.

Blue bird! on yon leafless tree.

Dost thou carol thus to me.

"Spring is coming Spring is here!"

Say'st thou so my birdie dear?

What is that in misty shroud,

Stealing from the darkened cloud?

Lo! the snow flakes' gathering mound

Settles o'er the whitened ground,

Yet thou singest, blithe and clear,

"Spring is coming Spring is here!"

 

Strik'st thou not too bold a strain?

Winds are piping o'er the plains,

Clouds are sweeping o'er the sky,

With a black and threatening eye;

Urchins by the frozen rill,

Wrap their mantles closer still :

Yon poor man with doublet old,

Doth he shiver with the cold?

Hath he not n nose of blue?

Tell me, birdling — tell me true?

 

Spring's a maid of mirth and glee,

Rosy wreaths and revelry;

Hast thou wooed some winged love

To a nest in verdant grove?

Sung to her of greenwood bower,

Sunny skies that never lower?

Lured her with thy promise fair,

Prithee, bird in coat of blue,

Though a lover — tell her true.

 

Ask her, if, when storms are long,

She can sing a cheerful song?

When the rude winds rock the tree,

If she'll closer cling to thee?

Then the blasts that sweep the sky,

Unappalled, shall pass thee by;

Tho thy curtained chamber show,

Sittings of untimely snow,

Warm and glad thy heart shall be,

Love shall make it Spring for thee.

April 14, 1860. Vermont Phoenix 27(15): 4. Also: May 2, 1861. Holmes County Farmer 23(11):4, new series.