Classic Poem

Standing upon the hill-top
In sentimental strain;
“If I were a little birdie,”
I carol again and again,

If I were a little swallow,
My child, I would fly to thee,
And close beside thy window,
My nest should builded be.

And were I the nightingale surely,
My child, I would fly to thee;
And sing thee songs till the morning,
From the green linden-tree.

And were I a robin-redbreast,
I would fly at once to thy heart;
For thou art partial to redbreasts,
And hast balm for a cock-robin's smart.