Poems (Linn)/The Nest

by Edith Willis Linn

THE NEST.

NEST on the bough, thou art like my life.
 Within I feel the fluttering wings,
The eager stir, the restless joy,
 The longing after far-off things.

And shall my fate be such as thine?
 Shall I behold my longings flown?
Shall I behold my fancies dead?
 My hopes take wing and leave me lone?

Amid the flowers of southern lands
 Our summer birds are heard again.
Heart hopes, sing on, the world is wide,
 But songs were never sung in vain.