Birds, joyous birds, of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of Spring?
"We come from the shores of the green old Nile,
From the land where the roses of Sharon smile,
And each worn wing hath regained its home
Under peasants' roof-trees or monarch's dome."

And what have ye found in the monarch's dome,
Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam?
"We have found a change, we have found a pall,
And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall,
And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt,--
Naught looks the same, save the nest we built."



O joyous birds! it hath still been so;
Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go!
But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep:
Say, what have ye found in the peasant's cot,
Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?--

"A change we have found there--and many a change!
Faces and footsteps, and all things strange!
Gone are the heads of the silvery hair,
And the young that were, have a brow of care.
And the place is hushed where the children played--
Naught looks the same, save the nest we made."