FOUR bluish eggs all in the moss! Soft-lined home on the cherry-bough! Life is trouble, and love is loss-- There's only one robin now. O robin up in the cherry-tree, Singing your soul away, Great is the grief befallen me, And how can you be so gay? Long ago when you cried in the nest, The last of the sickly brood, Scarcely a pinfeather warming your breast, Who was it brought you food? Who said, "Music, come fill his throat, Or ever the May be fled"? Who was it loved the low sweet note And the bosom's sea-shell red? Who said, "Cherries, grow ripe and big, Black and ripe for this bird of mine"? How little bright-bosom bends the twig, Sipping the black-heart's wine! Now that my days and nights are woe, Now that I weep for love's dear sake -- There you go singing away as though Never a heart could break! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GARDEN FANCIES: 2. SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS by ROBERT BROWNING A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT CHANSON INNOCENTE: 1, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS AMORETTI: 15 by EDMUND SPENSER THE SWING by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE PALM TREE by ABD-AR RAHMAN I LINES by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE STRAYED REVELLER by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO A REDBREAST, THAT FLEW INTO A HOUSE ... by ELIZABETH BENTLEY |