Oh, late to come but long to sing, My little finch of deep-dyed wing, I welcome thee this day! Thou comest with the orchard bloom, The azure days, the sweet perfume That fills the breath of May. A winged gem amid the trees, A cheery strain upon the breeze From treetop sifting down; A leafy nest in covert low, When daisies come and brambles blow, A mate in Quaker brown. But most I prize, past summer's prime, When other throats have ceased to chime, Thy faithful treetop strain; No brilliant bursts our ears enthrall -- A prelude with a "dying fall" That soothes the summer's pain. Where blackcaps sweeten in the shade, And clematis a bower hath made, Or in the bushy fields, On breezy slopes where cattle graze, At noon on dreamy August days, Thy strain its solace yields. Oh, bird inured to sun and heat, And steeped in summer languor sweet, The tranquil days are thine. The season's fret and urge are o'er, Its tide is loitering on the shore; Make thy contentment mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A PORTRAIT OF WORDSWORTH BY B.R. HAYDON by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE DEATH OF THE HIRED MAN by ROBERT FROST THE SONNET by RICHARD WATSON GILDER A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS HARDY PICCIOLA by ROBERT HENRY NEWELL MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT |