A Song for the Return of Birds

Haste, little songsters, and return To your nests in the silent wood; The birches are lonely and they yearn For your twittering brotherhood. The leaves are green on the wakened trees And the snow has left the moss; The sighing breeze With its symphonies Suggests our greatest loss— Haste, little birds, haste home! Haste little songsters, for the Spring Has come with her laughing train Of radiant blossoms; and now the King Is here, and the pattering rain. The nights are warm and the days are long, There is no more ice or frost; And oh! we long For a songbird's song, For a music the woods have lost— Haste, little birds, haste home!