To a Blackbird.

Bird on the bough,1
                        
                        Why singest thou ?2
                        
                        O wherefore that redundant song ?3
                        
                        Dost long to pour,4
                        
                        As heretofore,5
                        
                        Thy flute-like music from the leafless tree,6
                        
                        And herald Spring (ere storms have ceased to be)7
                        
                        With silver tongue ?8
                        Upon mine ear9
                        
                        Fall loud and clear10
                        
                        The sweet notes of thy minstrelsy.11
                        
                        Blow wind !  Beat rain12
                        
                        Upon the pane !13
                        
                        
                        Yon bird of mellow throat and dusky feather14
                        
                        Warbles, unmindful of the wintry weather,15
                        
                        Now chilling me.16
                        O joyous bird !17
                        
                        My heart is stirred—18
                        
                        My weary heart is comforted.19
                        
                        Thy vesper hymn20
                        
                        I’ the twilight dim,21
                        
                        When earth is tristful, and when skies are sobbing,22
                        
                        Has quelled the pain that sent my pulses throbbing23
                        
                        With anxious dread.24
                        Bird on the bough !25
                        
                        Say, mindest thou26
                        
                        The day when all the world was white ?27
                        
                        When from my sill28
                        
                        Thy yellow bill29
                        
                        With sweets I ravished ?  When ’mid frost ferns peering30
                        
                        I watched thee, joyed with thy presumptuous nearing,31
                        
                        Nor scared to flight ?32
                        Say, is the song33
                        
                        That floats along34
                        
                        From airy regions to my heart,35
                        
                        For soothèd sense36
                        
                        A recompense ?37
                        
                        Dost wish to chase my grief by rapturous singing ?38
                        
                        To teach me how to live—by lofty winging39
                        
                        The clouds to part ?40
                        Or dost forget41
                        
                        Thy paltry debt,42
                        
                        And ring out liquid notes for joy ?43
                        
                        Ere yet the earth44
                        
                        Has given birth45
                        
                        To nascent buds that blossom into flowers—46
                        
                        Ere yet the spring-tide raineth genial showers47
                        
                        Of sunlight coy ?48
                        O sweet !  O rare !49
                        
                        Beyond compare !50
                        
                        Dost dream of rose-flushed apple-tree ?51
                        
                        Of the coming day52
                        
                        When laughing May,53
                        
                        Will shake her magic bells to give thee pleasure,54
                        
                        And spread her balsamed leaves to guard thy treasure55
                        
                        And shelter thee ?56
                        Bird on the bough !57
                        
                        Enough, that thou58
                        
                        In thy glad pæan to the skies,59
                        
                        Hast lifted me60
                        
                        From apathy—61
                        
                        Hast bid me vanquish pain, be brave and cheery,62
                        
                        Even in unblissful hours, when days are dreary,63
                        
                        And doubts arise.64