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Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Thrush

From Wikisource
The Thrush.
Songster of the russet coat,Full and liquid is thy note;Plain thy dress, but great thy skill,Captivating at thy will.
Small musician of the field,Near my bower thy tribute yield,Little servant of the ear,Ply thy task, and never fear.
I will learn from thee to praiseGod, the Author of my days;I will learn from thee to sing,Christ, my Saviour and my King,Learn to labour with my voice,Make the sinking heart rejoice.