Classic Poem

Hark! the rich tones of a wondrous tune
Come up from the brakes,
Stirring coverts of Canada's June
And gladdening the Lakes;
Tones of a passionate, joy-laden heart
Whose fervid desire
Springs from the ultimate fountain of art,
Intense as a fire;
How each exultant, clear ecstasy-note,
In melodious rush,
Bursts from the song-mad, silvery throat
Of the hermit thrush!

Sweetest of songsters, soul evermore
Of the joy-breathing throng,
Opening to heaven, unwearied, the door
Of tumultuous song;
Filling the silences far from the ways
Of self-seeking men,
With billowy outbursts of turbulent praise
From stream and from glen;
Here is no heart-rending sorrow that sobs
In tear-freighted lay;
Thine is a music that vibrates and throbs
With the gladness of day.

When thou dost sing, O jubilant bird,
Thy music intense
Seemeth far sweeter than heaven hath heard,
To spirit and sense.
What is the wondrous source of the dream
That mellows thy voice?
Where is the sun and soul of the gleam
That bids thee rejoice,
Making thy song like an iris of fire,
By some angel hand
Flung from a rainbow,—an exquisite lyre
From the spirit-land?