The Bluebird
I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging:
Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary:
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.
Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat— 5
Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying,
Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying.
"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow,
You must be weary of winter, I know; 10
Hark while I sing you a message of cheer—
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!
"Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 5
Put on your mantles of purple and gold:
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?—
Summer is coming! and spring-time is here!"