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In the rosy light trills the gay swallow, The thrush, in the roses below; The meadow-lark sings in the meadow, But the snowbird sings in the snow. Ah me! Chickadee! The snowbird sings in the snow! The blue martin trills in the gable, The wren, in the gourd below; In the elm flutes the golden robin, But the snowbird sings in the snow. Ah me! Chickadee! The snowbird sings in the snow! High wheels the gray wing of the osprey, The wing of the sparrow drops low; In the mist dips the wing of the robin, And the snowbird's wing in the snow. Ah me! Chickadee! The snowbird sings in the snow. I love the high heart of the osprey, The meek heart of the thrush below, The heart of the lark in the meadow, And the snowbird's heart in the snow. But dearest to me, Chickadee! Chickadee! Is that true little heart in the snow. |