TO THE BLUE-BIRD. 335 



But soon again thy hope shall rise, 

 And spread her wing o'er vernal skies ; 

 Thy song of softest, sweetest note, 

 On zephyr's wave again shall float. 



Bird cerulean ! Bird of Spring ! 



Listen while the strain I sing, 

 Man hath his foes and so hast thou ; 

 What time beneath the waving bough 

 Thy humble home is recent made, 

 The Cowpen may thy peace invade. 

 Audacious bird ! uncourtly guest ! 

 Too idle to construct a nest! 

 Alas ! who must not bend to power ? 

 Even birds, within their little hour. 

 From tyrant birds shall suffer still 

 As man from some superior's will : 

 Who does not sometimes nurture those. 

 As thou, who prove the deadliest foes ? 



Bird cerulean! Bird of Spring, 



Listen while the strain I sing. 

 All, all is change throughout the earth ! 

 Joy follows sorrow, sadness mirth, 

 And when distress pursues the mind. 

 Relief, perchance, is close behind. 

 Sweet Bird I Columbia's gentle pride. 

 Whose doors for thee are open wide, 

 Still warble thou thy softest song ; 

 To thee all pleasing strains belong ; 



Bird cerulean! Bird of Spring! 



Listen while the strain I sing. 

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