To the Linnet
Oh! fear me not, sweet little Bird,
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Think not I wish to do you harm
Or drive you from the spray,
In hopes your song my thoughts may charm
I'm listening to your lay.
Oh! sing the saddest, wildest strain
You've e'er been taught by grief,
And chaunt it o'er and o'er again
'Twill give my soul relief.
If you have watched a Parent dear
Whose life was on the wane,
The mournful song pray let me hear,
You sang to soothe his pain.
If you have seen his eyelids close
Without the power to save.
Warble the lay, 'twill bring repose,
You sang beside his grave.
How oft by yonder aged tree,
My Father at my side,
I've listen'd many an hour to thee
At silent eventide.
For then, the merriest roundelay
You sang on summer eve
Was welcome, to a heart so gay
It knew no cause to grieve.
E'en yet your simple strain I love
Altho' by care oppress'd,
To hear thee warbling as I rove
Relieves my aching breast.
Then fear me not, sweet little Bird
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Oh! fear me not, sweet little Bird,
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Think not I wish to do you harm
Or drive you from the spray,
In hopes your song my thoughts may charm
I'm listening to your lay.
Oh! sing the saddest, wildest strain
You've e'er been taught by grief,
And chaunt it o'er and o'er again
'Twill give my soul relief.
If you have watched a Parent dear
Whose life was on the wane,
The mournful song pray let me hear,
You sang to soothe his pain.
If you have seen his eyelids close
Without the power to save.
Warble the lay, 'twill bring repose,
You sang beside his grave.
How oft by yonder aged tree,
My Father at my side,
I've listen'd many an hour to thee
At silent eventide.
For then, the merriest roundelay
You sang on summer eve
Was welcome, to a heart so gay
It knew no cause to grieve.
E'en yet your simple strain I love
Altho' by care oppress'd,
To hear thee warbling as I rove
Relieves my aching breast.
Then fear me not, sweet little Bird
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Think not I wish to do you harm
Or drive you from the spray,
In hopes your song my thoughts may charm
I'm listening to your lay.
Oh! sing the saddest, wildest strain
You've e'er been taught by grief,
And chaunt it o'er and o'er again
'Twill give my soul relief.
If you have watched a Parent dear
Whose life was on the wane,
The mournful song pray let me hear,
You sang to soothe his pain.
If you have seen his eyelids close
Without the power to save.
Warble the lay, 'twill bring repose,
You sang beside his grave.
How oft by yonder aged tree,
My Father at my side,
I've listen'd many an hour to thee
At silent eventide.
For then, the merriest roundelay
You sang on summer eve
Was welcome, to a heart so gay
It knew no cause to grieve.
E'en yet your simple strain I love
Altho' by care oppress'd,
To hear thee warbling as I rove
Relieves my aching breast.
Then fear me not, sweet little Bird
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Oh! fear me not, sweet little Bird,
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
Think not I wish to do you harm
Or drive you from the spray,
In hopes your song my thoughts may charm
I'm listening to your lay.
Oh! sing the saddest, wildest strain
You've e'er been taught by grief,
And chaunt it o'er and o'er again
'Twill give my soul relief.
If you have watched a Parent dear
Whose life was on the wane,
The mournful song pray let me hear,
You sang to soothe his pain.
If you have seen his eyelids close
Without the power to save.
Warble the lay, 'twill bring repose,
You sang beside his grave.
How oft by yonder aged tree,
My Father at my side,
I've listen'd many an hour to thee
At silent eventide.
For then, the merriest roundelay
You sang on summer eve
Was welcome, to a heart so gay
It knew no cause to grieve.
E'en yet your simple strain I love
Altho' by care oppress'd,
To hear thee warbling as I rove
Relieves my aching breast.
Then fear me not, sweet little Bird
Nor quit the bough for me,
But let your evening song be heard
Of artless minstrelsy.
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