Lines Sent to Mrs. Hans Sotheby, with a Cawdle-Cup
SENT TO MRS. HANS SOTHEBY
While the Finch from the groves, and the Lark from the skies,
Sing " Haste to the wedding, 'tis Valentine's day, "
To the jubilant Choir, in sad discord replies
A poor lonely Bird, from his nest far away.
Never more shall that songster the bridal-band lead,
For alas! to his winter no spring will succeed!
You, fair bird of passage, spread homeward your wing,
And still may " Sweet Home " be the descant you sing;
And when from the Cawdle-cup blushing you sip
The nectar most sweet to a young Mother's lip,
Oh deign to remember this Valentine's day,
And the poor lonely Bird from his nest far away!
While the Finch from the groves, and the Lark from the skies,
Sing " Haste to the wedding, 'tis Valentine's day, "
To the jubilant Choir, in sad discord replies
A poor lonely Bird, from his nest far away.
Never more shall that songster the bridal-band lead,
For alas! to his winter no spring will succeed!
You, fair bird of passage, spread homeward your wing,
And still may " Sweet Home " be the descant you sing;
And when from the Cawdle-cup blushing you sip
The nectar most sweet to a young Mother's lip,
Oh deign to remember this Valentine's day,
And the poor lonely Bird from his nest far away!
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