TO THE CANARY BIRD. I CANNOT hear thy voice with others' ears, Past days of joy should through thy memory throng, And each to thee their words of sorrow tell, While ravished sense forgets thee in thy song. The heart that on the past and future feeds, And pours in human words its thoughts divine, Though at each birth the spirit inly bleeds, Its song may charm the listening ear like thine, And men with gilded cage and praise will try To make the bard like thee forget his native sky. NATURE. NATURE! my love for thee is deeper far THE TREE. I LOVE thee when thy swelling buds appear And through thy leafless arms to look above On stars that brighter beam when most we need their love. THE STRANGER'S GIFT. I FOUND far culled from fragrant field and grove Each flower that makes our Spring a welcome guest; In one sweet bond of brotherhood inwove An osier band their leafy stalks compressed; Now oft I grieve to meet them on the lawn, THY BEAUTY FADES. THY beauty fades and with it too my love, From virtue's changeless bloom that time and death defies. |