Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/69

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So it must be they find some verdure here,
  Some little branch abloom,
   Some brooding room,
Where I had said that all were bare and sere;
  Or is it that they see
   Where bloom shall be?

For, best of all, they make themselves a place
  With spreading of their wings,
   The heaven-born things!
Enlarge the heart with motions of their grace,
  And waken blossoms there
   With tuneful air.

I must not hold them fast, that well I know;
  But stretch out wide and free,
   Like some green tree.
Fresh tidings bring they when they come and go,
  And other wing&d guests
   To build new nests.

Go, fly then, little singers, as you will,
  And sing your simple song
   All roads along;
Light on some wayworn hearts and make them thrill
  So softly, it shall seem
   Their inmost dream.

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