The Thrush
God bade the birds break not the silent spell
That lay upon the wood.
Longing for liquid notes that never fell
Ached the deep solitude.
The little birds obeyed. No voice awoke.
Dwelling sedate, apart,
Only the thrush, the thrush that never spoke,
Sang from her bursting heart.
That lay upon the wood.
Longing for liquid notes that never fell
Ached the deep solitude.
The little birds obeyed. No voice awoke.
Dwelling sedate, apart,
Only the thrush, the thrush that never spoke,
Sang from her bursting heart.
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