BIRDY! BIRDY!
The Redbreast loves the blooming bough—
The Bluebird loves it same as he;—
And as they sit and sing there now,
So do I sing to thee—
Only, dear heart, unlike the birds,
I do not climb a tree
To sing—
I do not climb a tree.
When o’er this page, in happy years to come,
Thou jokest on these lines and on my name,
Doubt not my love and say, “Though he lies dumb,
He’s lying, just the same!”