Classic Poem

SUNG BY A REDBREAST .

The gentle pair that in these lonely shades,
Wandering, at eve or morn, I oft have seen,
Now, all in vain, I seek at eve or morn,
With drooping wing, forlorn.
Along the grove, along the daisied green,
For them I've warbled many a summer's day,
Till the light dews impearled all the plain,
And the glad shepherd shut his nightly fold;
Stories of love, and high adventures old,
Were the dear subjects of my tuneful strain.
Ah! where is now the hope of all my lay?
Now they, perchance, thaTheard them all are dead!
With them the meed of melody is fled,
And fled with them the listening ear of praise.
Vainly I dreamt, that when the wintry sky
Scatter'd the white flood on the wasted plain,
When not one berry, not one leaf was nigh,
To soothe keen hunger's pain,
Vainly I dreamt my songs might not be vain:
That oft within the hospitable hall
Some scatter'd fragment haply I might find,
Some friendly crumb perchance for me design'd,
When seen despairing on the neighbouring wall.
Deluded bird, those hopes are now no more!
Dull Time has blasted the departing year,
And Winter frowns severe,
Wrapping his wan limbs in his mantle hoar.
Yet not within the hospitable hall
The cheerful sound of human voice I hear.
No piteous eye is near,
To see me drooping on the lonely wall.