A Spring-time Chirp - An 1871 Tennessee Poem

The blue birds and the robin red

This morning came in pairs;

The blue birds with much modesty,

The robins with some airs,

The morning winds moved gently,

The reddening maple tree,

Where the blue birds and the robins

Piped their spring-time minstrelsy.

 

The audience room was very large,

The audience rather small —

Peering through half-closed window blinds,

One "family circle" all.

The curtain rose at break of day,

Dissolving into air;

The singers promptly were in place,

For morning praise and prayer.

 

The little chirping soloists,

And choristers as well,

Trilled clearly all the highest notes,

And to the lowest tell

So perfectly, in time and tune,

So blithely and so gay,

While the King of the Day, from the eastern sky,

Threw his robes of night away.

 

And in his ear of molten gold,

With cloud-steeds snowy white,

On perfumed breath -- the morning air,

Rode up the empyrean height,

In regal robes and royal state,

Passing our maple tree,

Where the blue birds and the robins

Sang their morning melody.

 

No flats, no sharps, not one false note,

None hired to cry "encore;"

The daily programming warbled through,

All this and nothing more,

Comprising spring-time songs of joy

At early break of day,

From the blue birds and the robins,

In a genuine matinee.

 

With earnest listeners only --

With only those who hear

The song of birds in spring-time,

With eager listening ear;

The sky for an auditorium,

The budding trees for bowers,

For a guest the Sun of the morning;

Such are very precious hours.

 

But, ah, the concert closes

Too soon, by far, each day;

And we look, and wait, and listen,

As the bird-notes die away

In the dim and vaulted distance

Of the blue, ethereal sky,

Leaving rainbow tints of beauty,

At our feet, as the world goes by.

April 27, 1871. Fayetteville Observer 18(11): 1. A Temple of the Muses feature. From the Springfield Republican.