Poems (Sharpless)/My Bird

by Frances M. Sharpless

MY BIRD

Speed thee away, my Bird!
 From all thy weary pain,
'Tis not thy mother's love
 Would call thee back again.
The clouds are gathering fast,
 And angry rolls are heard
Which bode the coming storm.
 Then haste away, sweet Bird!

Haste thee away to skies
 Where tempests never come,
Where love eternal smiles
 In an unfading home.
Speed, speed away, sweet Bird!
 Seek thou a happier spot;
Leave me and speed away;
 Behold, I hold thee not!

What heed if tears will swell
 To these rebellious eyes?
What heed if words of cheer
 Are checked by breaking sighs?
What heed if vain regrets
 The mother's heart assail?
The love I bear to thee
 O'er nature shall prevail.

O speed thee hence, while yet
 I feel my soul so strong:
Take with thee smile and look
 That charmed my heart so long.
Take with thee, sweet, thy wiles,
 That cheered me in my sorrow,
My Angel Bird, whose eyes
 Gave new hope for each morrow.

Speed, speed away, ere thought
 Recalls me to my lot,
And tells of lonely hours
 When I shall have thee not.
Ere fancy pictures how
 At every turn I'll miss
Thy little winning ways,
 Thy gentle, fond caress.

Take with thee all my hope,
 Built on thy future years;
Frail hope, that like the frost
 In one night disappears.
Speed, speed away, my Bird,
 A happier sphere to fill;
I give her, God, to thee!
 My broken heart, be still!