| |
| SILENCE instead of thy sweet song, my bird, | |
| Which through the darkness of my winter days | |
| Warbling of summer sunshine still was heard; | |
| Mute is thy song, and vacant is thy place. | |
| |
| The spring comes back again, the fields rejoice, | 5 |
| Carols of gladness ring from every tree; | |
| But I shall hear thy wild triumphant voice | |
| No more: my summer song has died with thee. | |
| |
| What didst thou sing of, O my summer bird? | |
| The broad, bright, brimming river, whose swift sweep | 10 |
| And whirling eddies by the home are heard, | |
| Rushing, resistless, to the calling deep. | |
| |
| What didst thou sing of, thou melodious sprite? | |
| Pine forests, with smooth russet carpets spread, | |
| Where e’en at noonday dimly falls the light, | 15 |
| Through gloomy blue-green branches overhead. | |
| |
| What didst thou sing of, O thou jubilant soul? | |
| Ever-fresh flowers and never-leafless trees, | |
| Bending great ivory cups to the control | |
| Of the soft swaying orange-scented breeze. | 20 |
| |
| What didst thou sing of, thou embodied glee? | |
| The wide wild marshes with their clashing reeds | |
| And topaz-tinted channels, where the sea | |
| Daily its tides of briny freshness leads. | |
| |
| What didst thou sing of, O thou wingëd voice? | 25 |
| Dark, bronze-leaved oaks, with silver mosses crowned, | |
| Where thy free kindred live, love, and rejoice, | |
| With wreaths of golden jasmine curtained round. | |
| |
| These didst thou sing of, spirit of delight! | |
| From thy own radiant sky, thou quivering spark! | 30 |
| These thy sweet southern dreams of warmth and light, | |
| Through the grim northern winter drear and dark. | |
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