THE BATH OF THE GOLDEN ROBIN.
The sun beams over Laurelside
To Ana-lo-mink water,
And nature smiles in rural pride
At all the gifts he brought her.
The merry greenwood branches hold
More cheer than castle’s rafter,
The gurgling river ne’er is old
With sly and mellow laughter.
How welcome is the soothing sound
Of mingling water speeding
O’er pebbly bed with laugh and bound,
Through wooded banks receding!
Ah! pleasant ’tis to close one’s eyes,
And let the murmurous measure
With liquid tones of gay surprise
Fill up the fancy’s pleasure.
But ere my hooded eyes could wake
Sweet fancy’s happy scheming,
Came Robin Oriole to break
My sleepless, dulcet dreaming.
For Rob outshines the glowing day,
And in the sun’s dominions
Seems like a ball of fire at play
On elfin sable pinions.
He glints the orchard’s dropping dew,
Illumes the maple’s mazes,
Dispels the pine-shade passing through,
And in the sunshine blazes!
And sweeping to a mossy bank,
The wings the flame deliver
Where fern-encloister’d pebbles flank
An eddy from the river.
Here, by the stream-indented path,
As master Rob did spy it,
Thought he, What chance for Sunday bath!
So tempting, cool, and quiet.
He quaintly eyed the little pool,
And hopt so self-confiding,
And peek’d around, like boy from school,
To see none near were hiding.
Then, list’ning, seem’d to mark the tone
Made by the eddies’ patter;
But bravely sprang upon a stone,
And plunged with splash and spatter.
The bath came only to his knees,
But, ducking as he flutters,
Against his throat the water sprees,
And round his body sputters.
It leapt in bubbles, as his crest
And wings were merrily toiling;
You’d think his ruffled, fiery breast
Had set the water boiling.
He stopt short in his merry ways
As coy as any lady,
And, flutt’ring, sent a diamond haze
Around his bath so shady.
Then popt out on the olive moss
So softly deep and luscious;
Then skimm’d the blue-eyed flow’rs across,
And perch’d within the bushes.
He perk’d his head like dandy prig,
Now feeling fine and fresher;
And took the air upon a twig,
That scarcely felt his pressure.
Full suddenly he scann’d his shank,
As though he had not reckon’d
One dip enough, flew to the bank,
And gayly took a second!
Oh! how the jolly fellow dashed
The little waves asunder!
Dove in his head and breast, and splashed
His pinion-feathers under.
Then standing up, as though to rest,
He looked around discreetly;
Again with zest the pool caress’d,
And made his bath completely.
Out hopt he where the sun-fed breeze
Came streamward warmly tender—
A brilliant prince of Atomies
Amid this mountain splendor.
Oh, balmy is the mountain air
Of May with sunlight in it!
And blest is he from town-wrought care
Who can in greenwood win it.
But sun on Robin’s radiant coat,
All drench’d, he fear’d might spoil it,
So to an alder grove did float
To make his feathery toilet.
He pick’d his wings and smoothed his neck,
Arranged his vest’s carnation,
And flew out without stain or speck
To dazzle all creation!