THE JAVA SPARROW. 121 



SONG OF THE JAVA SPARROW. 



In the Library at D Cottage. 



You ask me, lady, why the hours 



Fleet gaily in this home of mine 

 This sunny home, where fragrant flowers 



Above their marble base entwine; 



If sage's lore or poet's lay 



Have power to charm my listening ear ; 

 Or tales of countries far away. 



Or attic wit that sparkles here ? 



Nor lore, nor lay, nor wit I prize ; 



Nor tale, nor converse sweet, beguile 

 My ev'ning hours, though gazing eyes 



Admire my graceful form the while. 



'Tis cordial kindness, fond and true, 



Still makes my life one summer day, 

 And brightens ev'ry joy for you, 



That glows in friendship's genial ray. 



Oh ! take your lyre, and while my song 



In dulcet notes is warbled low, 

 Your strains of gratitude prolong 



For blessings I can never know. 



Free as the birds that float in air, 

 Your course no narrow precincts bounds ; 



Go, soften woe and lighten care, 

 And spread the balm of kindness round. 



