To a Wood-Thrush

For Landon

If drops of rain within the lily bells
When shaken forth in shimmerings crystalline,
Could sound as sweetly as the lily smells,
I'd liken unto them your notes divine.

If golden, quivering sunlit skeins that glance
Reflected upward o'er the swan's white breast,
Could chime as silverly as light they dance,
I'd say: " So calls the Wood-thrush near his nest. "

If each fair, lovely, lonely little star,
As delicate and fine a song could sing
As its own beauty looked on from afar,
I'd think 'twas you that made the heavens to ring.

And if some wistful sprite from elfland fled
While watching at the gate of heaven in vain,
Should from the quill an angel's wing had shed,
Fashion a little pipe to flute his pain,
I'd think 'twas you that from the evening's height,
Rilled forth your spirit's longing and delight.
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