The Mocking Bird - An 1859 Poem

By Judge Meek.

From the vale, what music ringing

Fills the bosom of the night :

On the sense, entranced flinging

Spells of witchery and delight!

O'er magnolia, lime and cedar,

From yon locust top it swells,

Like the chant of serenader,

Or the rhyme of silver bells;

Listen! dearest, listen to it!

Sweeter sounds were never heard;

'Tis the song of that wild poet —

Mimmic and minstreal — Mocking Bird.

 

See him, swinging in his glory,

On yon topmost bending limb,

Carrolling his amorous story,

Like some wild crusader's hymn!

Now it taints in tones delicious

As the first low vows of love!

Now it breaks in swells capricious,

All the moonlight vale above!

Listen! dearest, etc.

 

Why is't thus, this sylvan Petrarch

Pours all night his serenade?

'Tis for some proud woodland Laura,

His sad sonnets are all made :

But be changed now his measure —

Gladness building from his mouth —

Jest, and jibe, and mimic pleasure —

Winged Anaeroan of the South!

Listen! dearest, etc.

 

Bird of music, wit and gladness,

Troubadour of sunny clime,

Disenchanter of all sadness —

Would thine are where in my rhymes,

O'er the heart that's beating by me,

I would weave a spell divine :

Is there aught she could deny me,

Drinking in such strains as thine?

Listen, dearest, etc.

March 26, 1859. Keowee Courier 10(35): 1.