Poems (Linn)/Song

by Edith Willis Linn

For works with similar titles, see Song.

SONG.

THE southern bird flies north again,
 The bloom is on the tree;
The columbine is tipped with gold,
 O, wandering heart, come back to me.

The wild rose blushes on the hill,
 And blue the summer sea;
The clover fields perfume the air,
 O, wandering heart, come back to me.

The purple bloom 1s on the grape,
 The maple crimsons on the lea;
The woodbine spills its royal blood,
 O, wandering heart, come back to me.

The snow is white upon the world,
 The merry brooks must silent be;
While dreary moans the northern wind,
 O, wandering heart, come back to me.

I am not sad as seasons roll;
 Life still is sweet, joy still is free;
And yet,—and yet,—there is something lost—
 O, wandering heart, come back to me.