THE ORIOLE’S RETURN.

Hast thou come back, loved oriole,

Thy stay has been so long,

To flit among the garden flowers,

And cheer me with thy song.

Yes, yes, my pretty oriole,

Thou’st left thy distant bowers,

And come to make thy dwelling-place,

In this green land of ours.

For cheerful spring, my oriole,

Returns to us again,

And soon shall summer’s balmy breath

Spread fragrance o’er the plain.

The fields that late, dear oriole,

Were white with fleecy snow,

Are green, and the refreshing breeze

Has bid the fountains flow.

And budding shrubs, sweet oriole,

Bedeck this blooming scene,

And the wide-spreading willow

Is clothed in living green.

Then with thy mate, my oriole,

Come sit upon this tree,

And tune thy gay and lively notes,

So long unheard by me.

And there, my gentle oriole,

From thy long journey rest,

Then to the drooping branches, love,

Suspend thy downy nest.

For all is beauteous, oriole,

Around, beneath, above,

And little birds are warbling,

Far in the waving grove.

And the soft rill, my oriole,

Where oft I have seen thee light,

To drink the waters murmuring by,

Now sparkles clear and bright.

And thou hast come, loved oriole,

To glad me with thy voice,

And verdant spring again returns,

To bid our hearts rejoice.

MISS C. MITCHELL.