AN IRISH BLACKBIRD
Reading edition
This is my brave singer, With his beak of gold; Now my heart’s a captive In his song’s sweet hold.
O, the lark’s a rover, Seeking fields above: But my serenader Hath a human love.
“Hark!” he says, “in winter Nests are full of snow, But a truce to wailing Summer breezes blow.”
“Hush!” he sings, “with night-time Phantoms cease to be, Join your serenader Piping on his tree.”
O, my little lover, Warble in the blue; Wingless must I envy Skies so wide for you.