The summer's joyous warblers away
Have flown from November's frown,
And midst the palsied woodland's decay,
I reign on my perch of hemlock spray,
A monarch without a crown.
In early spring came the Oriole
To foster her orange brood,
Ere crept the rattlesnake from his hole
Or the dormant Owl his stern patrol
Resumed, in the tropic wood.
The Throstle brown and the Catbird gray,
With the timid Redbreast came,
And the Blackbird and the Bobolink gay,
With answering notes took up the lay
Of the Grosbeak's throat of flame.
Out of last year's leaves and grasses sere
And the gray rock's mossy beard,
In tufts, or copses shrouding the mere,
Or 'neath the Catalpa's flapping ear,
Their nests they merrily reared.
While lasted the spring-tide's quickening hours
Their carols the forest thrilled,
They summoned the bee to opening flowers
When honey, from April's balmy showers,
The sun in their cups distilled.
To quiet their nestlings' plaintive cry
Like flashes they clave the air,
Now chasing the golden dragon-fly,
Now preying upon the insect fry,
Or the spider in his lair.
Like guests who flit from a summer fête,
Aweary of dance and play,
Ere the motley fireworks scintillate,
In starry pennons, before the gate
Of night, and awake the day;
They fled when the hoarfrost first congealed
On the clover's flower-reft blade,
And Autumn her tawny dyes revealed
In the scattered spoils by road and field
Of the Summer's masquerade.
They fled as worldly parasites fly
From the prodigal's dying bed,
And the only mourner left am I
To witness the funeral pageantry
Of Nature burying her dead.
The squirrel sleeps in the hollow tree
Or munches his winter store,
The partridge crops fat berries in glee,
The quail roams gleaning the stubble free,
And the meadow-lark the moor.
When spread the Oak his pall o'er the flowers,
The silver Maple grew pale,
And a crimson flushed the ivied bowers
Where 'neath the Dogwood, in fervid hours
Had blossomed the Orchis frail.
The Hickory's green to gold then turned,
Yet clave to the fruitful bough,
While the Catbriar, as a miser spurned
In death, was stripped of its leaves, which burned
Like coals in the muddy slough.
The Gum's leaves will with the rainbow vie,
Till from the Heavens, o'ercast
With frowns no longer checked by the eye
Of the sun, rebellious snows shall fly
On the ruthless Arctic blast.
But his realms their absent Lord again,
In Spring, shall awake from sleep,
And my sisters will cheer their little Wren
With newest songs from the grove and glen,
Where the mocking-birds vigil keep
Have flown from November's frown,
And midst the palsied woodland's decay,
I reign on my perch of hemlock spray,
A monarch without a crown.
In early spring came the Oriole
To foster her orange brood,
Ere crept the rattlesnake from his hole
Or the dormant Owl his stern patrol
Resumed, in the tropic wood.
The Throstle brown and the Catbird gray,
With the timid Redbreast came,
And the Blackbird and the Bobolink gay,
With answering notes took up the lay
Of the Grosbeak's throat of flame.
Out of last year's leaves and grasses sere
And the gray rock's mossy beard,
In tufts, or copses shrouding the mere,
Or 'neath the Catalpa's flapping ear,
Their nests they merrily reared.
While lasted the spring-tide's quickening hours
Their carols the forest thrilled,
They summoned the bee to opening flowers
When honey, from April's balmy showers,
The sun in their cups distilled.
To quiet their nestlings' plaintive cry
Like flashes they clave the air,
Now chasing the golden dragon-fly,
Now preying upon the insect fry,
Or the spider in his lair.
Like guests who flit from a summer fête,
Aweary of dance and play,
Ere the motley fireworks scintillate,
In starry pennons, before the gate
Of night, and awake the day;
They fled when the hoarfrost first congealed
On the clover's flower-reft blade,
And Autumn her tawny dyes revealed
In the scattered spoils by road and field
Of the Summer's masquerade.
They fled as worldly parasites fly
From the prodigal's dying bed,
And the only mourner left am I
To witness the funeral pageantry
Of Nature burying her dead.
The squirrel sleeps in the hollow tree
Or munches his winter store,
The partridge crops fat berries in glee,
The quail roams gleaning the stubble free,
And the meadow-lark the moor.
When spread the Oak his pall o'er the flowers,
The silver Maple grew pale,
And a crimson flushed the ivied bowers
Where 'neath the Dogwood, in fervid hours
Had blossomed the Orchis frail.
The Hickory's green to gold then turned,
Yet clave to the fruitful bough,
While the Catbriar, as a miser spurned
In death, was stripped of its leaves, which burned
Like coals in the muddy slough.
The Gum's leaves will with the rainbow vie,
Till from the Heavens, o'ercast
With frowns no longer checked by the eye
Of the sun, rebellious snows shall fly
On the ruthless Arctic blast.
But his realms their absent Lord again,
In Spring, shall awake from sleep,
And my sisters will cheer their little Wren
With newest songs from the grove and glen,
Where the mocking-birds vigil keep