if THE THRUSH. 39 



of Natural History, for May, 1830 ; and in the 

 Architecture of Birds. 



THE SONG OF THE THRUSH. 



Ere the morning light 



Had chased the night, 

 Oh ! did ye not hear a wild trilling song, 

 Floating the op'ning vallies among ? 



From dawn of day, 



That warbling lay 

 Seem'd as though it would charm the darkness away 



Hark, how the air rings ! 



'Tis the mavis sings ; 

 And merrily, merrily sounds her voice, 

 Calling on vallies and hills to rejoice ; 



For winter is past, 



And the stormy blast 

 Is hastening away to the northward at last. 



Awake ! land and sea, 



And rejoice with me ; 



Awake ! she cries, from your winter's repose, 

 Awake ! for the south wind softly blows ; 



Wake, birds of the bowers, 



The moments are ours, 

 Wake! wake ! and welcome the season of flowers. 



Awake ! and sing, 



For the joyous spring, 



Is hanging green wreaths on the forest-trees, 

 And shedding sweet odours on every breeze. 



Wake, birds of song ! 



Why linger so long ? 

 Wake ! wake ! and rejoice with our merry throng. 



