^6 The Oven-Bird 
Far above the highest treetop, 
Singing goes this sweet Accentor. 
Noontide never sees this soaring, 
Midday never hears this music, 
Only at the hour of slumber, 
Only once, as day is dying, 
When the perils and the sorrows, 
When the blessings and the raptures, 
One and all have joined the finished, 
Does this sweet-toned forest singer 
Urge his wings towards endless ether. 
Hover high a single moment 
Pouring out his spirit's gladness 
Toward the Source of life and being. 
