SONNET.—AUDUBON.[A]
Reading edition
SONNET.—AUDUBON.[A]
BY WM. ALEXANDER.
Ah! is he blind, who erst, untiringly, Searched wildwood, prairie, meadow, rock, and wold, For you, sweet songsters, clad in yellow gold? When comes spring's carnival, enchantingly Sing ye to him, with sorrow in your song; For that his sightless orbs now roll in vain, No more to view your rainbow-tints again— Love-lays in gratitude to him belong, From matin Lark, loud herald of the day— From Philomel, coy chorister of night: Listens he yet, ye birds, with dear delight, In rapture musing on your plumage gay, Hoping to soar, when life's short day is done, On eagle-pinions up to yonder central sun.