1864

THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS

by William Cullen Bryant

THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS -

I hear, from many a little throat,

A warble interrupted long;

I hear the robin's flute-like note,

The bluebird's slenderer song. -

Brown meadows and the russet hill,

Not yet the haunt of grazing herds,

And thickets by the glimmering rill,

Are all alive with birds. -

Oh choir of spring, why come so soon?

On leafless grove and herbless lawn

Warm lie the yellow beams of moon;

Yet winter is not gone. -

For frost shall sheet the pools again;

Again the blustering East shall blow-

Whirl a white tempest through the glen,

And load the pines with snow. -

Yet, haply, from the region where,

Waked by an earlier spring than here,

The blossomed wild-plum scents the air,

Ye come in haste and fear. -

For there is heard the bugle-blast,

The booming gun, the jarring drum,

And on their chargers, spurring fast,

Armed warriors go and come. -

There mighty hosts have pitched the camp

In valleys that were yours till then,

And Earth has shuddered to the tramp

Of half a million men! -

In groves where once ye used to sing,

In orchards where ye had your birth,

A thousand glittering axes swing

To smite the trees to earth. -

Ye love the fields by ploughmen trod;

But there, when sprouts the beechen spray,

The soldier only breaks the sod

To hide the slain away. -

Stay, then, beneath our ruder sky;

Heed not the storm-clouds rising black,

Nor yelling winds that with them fly;

Nor let them fright you back,- -

Back to the stifling battle-cloud,

To burning towns that blot the day,

And trains of mounting dust that shroud

The armies on their way. -

Stay, for a tint of green shall creep

Soon o'er the orchard's grassy floor,

And from its bed the crocus peep

Beside the housewife's door. -

Here build, and dread no harsher sound

To scare you from the sheltering tree,

Than winds that stir the branches round,

And murmur of the bee. -

And we will pray that, ere again

The flowers of autumn bloom and die,

Our generals and their strong-armed men

May lay their weapons by. -

Then may ye warble, unafraid,

Where hands, that wear the fetter now,

Free as your wings shall ply the spade,

And guide the peaceful plough. -

Then, as our conquering hosts return,

What shouts of jubilee shall break

From placid vale and mountain stern,

And shore of mighty lake! -

And midland plain and ocean-strand

Shall thunder: "Glory to the brave,

Peace to the torn and bleeding land,

And freedom to the slave!" - -