Poems (Welby)/The Summer Birds
THE SUMMER BIRDS.
Sweet warblers of the sunny hours,
Forever on the wing—
I love them as I love the flowers,
The sunlight and the spring.
They come like pleasant memories
In summer's joyous time,
And sing their gushing melodies
As I would sing a rhyme.
Forever on the wing—
I love them as I love the flowers,
The sunlight and the spring.
They come like pleasant memories
In summer's joyous time,
And sing their gushing melodies
As I would sing a rhyme.
In the green and quiet places,
Where the golden sunlight falls,
We sit with smiling faces
To list their silver calls.
And when their holy anthems
Come pealing through the air,
Our hearts leap forth to meet them
With a blessing and a prayer.
Where the golden sunlight falls,
We sit with smiling faces
To list their silver calls.
And when their holy anthems
Come pealing through the air,
Our hearts leap forth to meet them
With a blessing and a prayer.
Amid the morning's fragrant dew,
Amid the mists of even,
They warble on as if they drew
Their music down from heaven.
How sweetly sounds each mellow note
Beneath the moon's pale ray,
When dying zephyrs rise and float
Like lovers' sighs away!
Amid the mists of even,
They warble on as if they drew
Their music down from heaven.
How sweetly sounds each mellow note
Beneath the moon's pale ray,
When dying zephyrs rise and float
Like lovers' sighs away!
Like shadowy spirits seen at eve,
Among the tombs they glide,
Where sweet pale forms, for which we grieve,
Lie sleeping side by side.
They break with song the solemn hush
Where peace reclines her head,
And link their lays with mournful thoughts,
That cluster round the dead.
Among the tombs they glide,
Where sweet pale forms, for which we grieve,
Lie sleeping side by side.
They break with song the solemn hush
Where peace reclines her head,
And link their lays with mournful thoughts,
That cluster round the dead.
For never can my soul forget
The loved of other years;
Their memories fill my spirit yet—
I've kept them green with tears;
And their singing greets my heart at times,
As in the days of yore,
Though their music and their loveliness
Is ever o'er—for ever o'er.
The loved of other years;
Their memories fill my spirit yet—
I've kept them green with tears;
And their singing greets my heart at times,
As in the days of yore,
Though their music and their loveliness
Is ever o'er—for ever o'er.
And often when the mournful night
Comes with a low sweet tune,
And sets a star on every height
And one beside the moon,
When not a sound of wind or wave
The holy stillness mars,
I look above and strive to trace
Their dwellings in the stars.
Comes with a low sweet tune,
And sets a star on every height
And one beside the moon,
When not a sound of wind or wave
The holy stillness mars,
I look above and strive to trace
Their dwellings in the stars.
The birds of summer hours—
They bring a gush of glee
To the child among the dewy flowers,
To the sailor on the sea.
We hear their thrilling voices
In their swift and airy flight,
And the inmost heart rejoices
With a calm and pure delight.
They bring a gush of glee
To the child among the dewy flowers,
To the sailor on the sea.
We hear their thrilling voices
In their swift and airy flight,
And the inmost heart rejoices
With a calm and pure delight.
In the stillness of the starlight hours,
When I am with the dead,
O! may they flutter mid the flowers,
That blossom o'er my head,
And pour their songs of gladness forth
In one melodious strain,
O'er lips, whose broken melody
Shall never sing again.
When I am with the dead,
O! may they flutter mid the flowers,
That blossom o'er my head,
And pour their songs of gladness forth
In one melodious strain,
O'er lips, whose broken melody
Shall never sing again.