The Robin

In the tall elm tree sat the Robin bright,

Through the rainy April day,

And he caroled clear with a pure delight,

to the face of the sky so gray.

And the silver rain through the blossoms dropped,

And fell on the Robin's coat,

And his brave red breast, but he never stopped

Piping his cheerful note;

For O, the fields were green and glad,

And the blissful life that stirred

In the earth's wide breast, was full and warm

In the heart of the little bird.

The rain cloud lifted, the sunset light

Streamed wide over valley and hill,

As the plains of heaven the land grew bright,

And the warm south wind was still.

Then loud and clear called the happy bird,

And rapturously he sang,

Till wood and meadow and river side

With jubilant echoes rang.

But the sun dropped down in the quiet west,

And he hushed his song at last;

All nature softly sank to rest

And the April day had passed.