A SONG OF THE ROSE-BREASTED GROSBEAK
Reading edition
Hark! Hark!
From the elm tree’s topmost spray,
As the sun’s first spark
O’erleaps the dark
He sings to the dawning day.
Over and over and over, the thrilling strain:
Never more clear
On love-tuned ear
Burst forth love’s charmed refrain.
Hark, hark, listen and hear!
The robin’s whistle, the oriole’s note,
Both are drowned
In the golden sound
That pours from the perfect throat.
Sing, spirit of might,
Bird of beauty and tune,—
Sable-winged as a summer’s night,
With the red-rose breast as soft, as bright
As a rose-red dawn in June!
Sing, sing to the rippling light,
Sing to the paling moon!
Sing, sing, sing
Of a joy beyond our ken,
Till the burdens of manhood loose their hold,
And the heart grows young, and the Age of Gold
Rolls back on the souls of men.
—Dora Read Goodale, in Youth’s Companion.