The Birds' Concert - An 1866 Poem

In that leafy bower just over the way

The birds are having a concert to-day;

The air is ringing

With the songs they are singing,

But I cannot understand one word they say.

 

A am not versed in the language of birds,

And I strive in vain to catch the words

That I know belongs

To those beautiful songs

They are singing so sweetly, the dear little birds.

 

I am not sure, but I think they are telling

How rapidly the flower-buds are swelling,

That soon they will bloom

And shed their perfume

In every meadow and woodland, garden and dwelling.

 

I am sure they are praising that heavenly Friend,

Who doth such wonderful blessings send,

Who fills our bowers

With birds and flowers,

That Friend whose bounty knows no end.

 

They are bidding us join in their songs of praise

To Him who hat guarded up all our days,

Whose love divine,

On our path doth shine,

And guides us safely in all our ways.

 

Then let us heed what these warblers say,

Let us praise this Friend while yet we may,

With cheerful hearts,

Let us act our parts,

And sing as we wend our heavenward way.

May 2, 1866. Memphis Public Ledger 2(51): 4. From the Augusta Daily Press.