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No warblers now to wake the morn,
Or charm the lonely evening hour!
The warblers all are gone.
Wild is the dreary prospect round,
Hushed is the murmuring torrents’ sound,
And solemn silence reigns profound,
Terrific and alone!
Wild the deserted groves appear,
Untuneful, desolate, and drear!

But ah! yon songster’s glad return
Proclaims thy reign will soon be o’er;
And bids the heart no longer mourn,
The Spring will soon return once more,
And Nature smile serene.
Her smiles shall dissipate the gloom,
Again the fairest flowers shall bloom,
And Summer soon her seat resume,
Her robes of brightest green;
Again the groves in state shall rise,
And purest azure gild the skies.

Hail! grateful songster, tuneful bird!
Thou earliest pledge of spring, all hail!
How sweet thy plaintive notes are heard
Floating adorn the balmy gale!
How sweet thy morning song!