Classic Poem

Within a budding grove,
In April's ear sang every bird his best,
But not a song to pleasure my unrest,
Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love,
Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest.
To every word
Of every bird
I listen'd, and replied as it behove.

Scream'd Chaffinch, " Sweet, sweet, sweet!
Pretty lovey, come and meet me here! "
" Chaffinch, " quoth I, " be dumb awhile, in fear
Thy darling prove no better than a cheat;
And never come, or fly when wintry days appear. "
Yet from a twig
With voice so big,
The little fowl his utterance did repeat.

Then I, " the man forlorn
Hears Earth send up a foolish noise aloft. "
" And what'll he do? what'll he do! " scoff'd
The Blackbird, standing in an ancient thorn,
Then spread his sooty wings and flitted to the croft,
With cackling laugh:
Whom I, being half
Enraged, call'd after, giving back his scorn.

Worse mock'd the Thrush, " Die! die!
O could he do it? could he do it? Nay!
Be quick! be quick! Here, here, here! " (Went his lay)
" Take heed! take heed! " then, " Why? why? why? why? why?
See-ee now! see-ee now! " (he drawl'd) " Back! back! back! R-r-r-run away! "
O Thrush, be still!
Or, at thy will,
Seek some less sad interpreter than I!

" Air, air! blue air and white!
Whither I flee, whither, O whither, O whither I flee! "
(Thus the Lark hurried, mounting from the lea)
" Hills, countries, many waters glittering bright,
Whither I see, whither I see! deeper, deeper, deeper, whither I see, see, see! "
Gay Lark, I said,
The song that's bred
In happy nest may well to heaven make flight.

" There's something, something sad,
I half remember " — piped a broken strain.
Well sung, sweet Robin! Robin sung again,
" Spring's opening cheerily, cheerily! be we glad! "
Which moved, I wist not why, me melancholy mad,
Till now, grown meek,
With wetted cheek,
Most comforting and gentle thoughts I had.