Classic Poem

The robin sings of willow-buds,
— Of snowflakes on the green;
The bluebird sings of Mayflowers,
— The crackling leaves between;
The veery has a thousand tales
— To tell to girl and boy;
But the oriole, the oriole,
— Sings, " Joy! joy! joy! "

The pewee calls his little mate,
— Sweet Phaebe, gone astray,
The warbler sings, " What fun, what fun,
— To tilt upon the spray! "
The cuckoo has no song, but clucks,
— Like any wooden toy;
But the oriole, the oriole,
— Sings, " Joy! joy! joy! "

The grosbeak sings the rose's birth,
— And paints her on his breast;
The sparrow sings of speckled eggs,
— Soft brooded in the nest.
The wood-thrush sings of peace, " Sweet peace,
— Sweet peace, " without alloy;
But the oriole, the oriole,
— Sings " Joy! joy! joy! "