Poems (Sharpless)/My Mocking Bird
MY MOCKING BIRD
Weary and weak from pain, I lie,With languid head, and half-closed eye;Nerves all unstrung, responsive springTo meet whate'er may respite bring.
A lovely scene of hill and daleSpreads out before my view; clouds sailIn yonder dome of azure air,With sweet bird warbles everywhere.
The swallows hurrying with wide throat,The blackbird's clear responsive note,The robin's rich, full call, the screamOf angry catbird by the stream,
The anxious cluck of brooding hens,The squabbling of the nestling wrens,Whose hungry mouths are gaping wideAnd only one worm to divide;—
Then a swift flood of melodyO'erflows my little room, and me,And thro' the winter's stormy hoursI see the sunny Land of Flowers.
Thus shift the scenes at thy caprice,While rough winds blow and sleet storms freeze;A little feathered fairy sings,And changes thus the face of things.