In the bushy pastures Ere April days are done, Or 'long the forest border Ere chewink had begun, Is Spizella trilling In notes that circling run Like wavelets in the water A-rippling in the sun. A gentle, timid rustic Who makes the dingle ring, Or round about the orchard Where bush and bier cling. Most tuneful of the sparrows, My bird with russet wing, -- A joy in early summer, A thrill in early spring. His coat has russet trimmings, And russet in his crown; Less bright and trim of feather Than chippy, near the town; A plainer country cousin, With plainer country gown, Who loves the warmth of summer, But dreads the autumn's frown. He hides in weeds vineyards When August days are here, And taps the purple clusters For a bit of social cheer; The boys have caught him at it, The proof is fairly clear; And still I bid him welcome, The pilf'ring little dear; He pays me off in music, And pays me every year. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEMORY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RAIN AFTER A VAUDEVILLE SHOW by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM, THE MURDERER by THOMAS HOOD TWILIGHT AT THE HEIGHTS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER ODES I, 5 by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS A SOUL; A STUDY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI FANNIE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |