Herbert Salisbury Hopkins

To the Oriole

Lightly swinging, sweetly singing,
In the budding trees;
Rapturous song is borne along
On the scented breeze.

Golden throated, joyous noted,
In the bright spring days;
Happy creature! What a teacher
Of the art of praise!

With thy trilling thou art filling
All the balmy air;
Thine is pleasure without measure,
Song is everywhere.

Cease your singing, cease your swinging,
Fly unto your nest.
Shades are falling, night is calling
Nature to its rest.

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