Poems (Sharpless)/An Appeal

by Frances M. Sharpless

AN APPEAL

Oh! the innocent, happy life!
 Embowered in blossoming apple trees!
Singing to cheer the small brown wife
 Rocked in her nest by each merry breeze.

The grateful hymn at the dawn of day,
 The busy hurry thro' buoyant air,
Where toil is pleasure, and business play,
 And singing the while—singing everywhere.

A shot, and the joyous life is o'er;
 A fluttering rag of feathers and blood
Is dashed to the earth; no singing more;
 One bird less for orchard and wood.

Only a little, blithe singing bird!
 One! nay, millions! but what of that?
When Autocrat Fashion has spoken her word;
 She must have their plumes for her winter hat.

Could the sobbing voices swell to a shriek
 From forest and meadow and wild seashore,
Could their pitiful, helpless anguish speak,
 Oh, who would covet their plumage more?

Sweet maiden, fair, with the tender eyes,
 Your gentle spirit would surely shrink
From the hat where a murdered songster lies
 In a mute reproach, if you would but think.

Let flowers and lustrous ribbons give
 Enough of beauty and color glows;
But these lovely songsters, oh! let them live
 And spare their pangs from earth's sum of woe.