Poems (Chitwood)/Birds

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

For works with similar titles, see Birds.

BIRDS.

Singing in the vallies,
 Where the waters flow
Singing in the quiet dells,
 Where the lilies grow;
Singing on the uplands,
 Through the summer's day,
On the emerald hill-side,
 Where the lambkins play.
Dear birdies, dear birdies,
 I will learn from you
How to frame my pleasant thoughts
 Into singing too.

Springs the lark at morning
 To the azure sky;
Gentle wings, the robin,
 Softly lifts on high;
Starts the ground-bird, trilling,
 From her grassy nest;
And the happy thrushes
 Warble with the rest.
Dear birdies, dear birdies,
 I will learn from you
How to mount, on thankful wings,
 Up to heaven too.

Building, in the wild-brier,
 Tiny nests so sly,
In the quiet woodland,
 Where the shadows lie,
'Neath the grassy covert,
 'Neath the fragrant leaves,
By the waving river,
 Underneath the caves.
Dear birdies, dear birdies,
 I must learn from you,
That to make a happy home,
 I must labor too.

Drinking, from the lily-urn,
 Drops of sparkling dew;
Laving in the quiet lake,
 Flashing up so blue;
Flying through the summer's rain,
 With a merry wing,
Surely such a pleasant bath
 Is a blessèd thing.
Dear birdies, dear birdies,
 I will learn from you,
That the sparkling water-fount
 Is a blessing too.

Pretty little warblers!
 Joyous-hearted throng!
Through the storm's dark pauses,
 I have heard your song.
Be the days of tempest,
 Still your songs ye pour;
And when the storms are over,
 Then you sing the more.
Dear birdies, dear birdies,
 I will learn from you,
How to pass the gloomy hours,
 With a carol too.