. Lilt o' the birds . essness, Doth tiembling eyehds half unclose;Or when the garish day declines And all the world seeks balmy twilight softens forms and lines, Then sings the wood-thrush at his best. Alone, in some sequestered bowr. Where leafy arches cast their shadeAnd cool, at mid-days torrid hour. The brooklet winding through the glade;Where human discord, all unknown. Neer breaks of sacred hush the spell;There, in his cloister, all alone. In shy seclusion doth he dwell. Now pause; approach not all too near His favored haunt with careless tread,So you a chorister would hear Who
. Lilt o' the birds . essness, Doth tiembling eyehds half unclose;Or when the garish day declines And all the world seeks balmy twilight softens forms and lines, Then sings the wood-thrush at his best. Alone, in some sequestered bowr. Where leafy arches cast their shadeAnd cool, at mid-days torrid hour. The brooklet winding through the glade;Where human discord, all unknown. Neer breaks of sacred hush the spell;There, in his cloister, all alone. In shy seclusion doth he dwell. Now pause; approach not all too near His favored haunt with careless tread,So you a chorister would hear Whose rhapsodies might wake the , he has caught the art Alone, where natures spirit giving voice to natures heart And weaving chorals from her moods. No suitor bold for mens applause. Unconscious of his powers, heFrom nature inspiration draws And fills her halls with woodland haunts, inviolate Bj mortals sordid clamorings,To liis Creator and his mate He brings his choicest offerings.[4]. THE THRUSH THE HOMING DOVE O WINGED messenger of love, Of hope and peace and life in sacred lore,Tell me, O silent, s^\^ft, unerring instinct guides thy flight on dowTiy pinionAcross the wastes of sea, the mountains oer. Through wind and murky storm, through night and day?What hidden power bears thee on thy waySafe, safe unto thy goal from foreign shore,O gentle dove? Nay, none but He who rules above Could bear thee thus oer sea and desert wade;, none but God could clarify thy sjTubol of the soul for realms elysianBoimd. Naught but spirit-prescience eer could guideThee true. Yea, thou a perfect sjonbol artOf deathless soul, by heaven set apart—Lifes fairest emblem homing oer deaths tide—O gentle dove! [5] O BlliD THAT CLEAVES THE AZURE SKIES O BIRD that cleaves the azure skies To poise the tieecy clouds among,What glories greet your searching eyesAs to the vaulted dome you rise, That tune your voice to thrilling song? What visions
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade, bookidliltobirds00pick, bookyear1912
