The First Bird of Spring

By S.C.G., Cambridgeport. For the Chronicle.

I hear thy voice of joyous glee

Like some glad spirit, bright and free,

Waking fair morn

At early dawn,

With songs of praise,

Like angel's lays,

As sweet and full of melody.

 

Gay, joyous bird with a fluttering wing,

With thee we hail the dawning spring.

Bright trees and flowers

'Mid April showers,

Will soon appear

In verdure here,

And nature, join our melody.

 

Oh, say! thou earliest bird of spring,

Dost thou to man thy tribute bring,

Tat thus, he may,

Though formed of clay,

Aspire to raise

His songs of praise,

To Him who gave thee melody!

 

Can memory touch no sadder strain

Than that which wakes thy woods again!

Dost thou not mourn

The early gone,

Sweet songsters fled,

Or Flowerets dead,

The plaintive tones of melody?

 

Then give thy notes a mournful strain,

And we will join, thy requiem,

For loved ones fled,

Who sleep with dead,

Till spirit's spring

Again may bring,

Their songs of holy melody.

March 14, 1850. Cambridge Chronicle 5(11): 2.