Dost thou understand,
Child, what the birds are singing?
SABRINA.
All the land
Knows that: the water tells it to the rushes
Aloud, and lower and softlier to the sand:
The flower-fays, lip to lip and hand in hand,
Laugh and repeat it all till darkness hushes
Their singing with a word that falls and crushes
All song to silence down the river-strand
And where the hawthorns hearken for the thrushes.
And all the secret sense is sweet and wise
That sings through all their singing, and replies
When we would know if heaven be gay or grey
And would not open all too soon our eyes
To look perchance on no such happy skies—
As sleep brings close and waking blows away.
ESTRILD.
What gives thy fancy faith enough to say
This?
SABRINA.
Why, meseems the sun would hardly rise
Else, nor the world be half so glad of day.
ESTRILD.
Why didst thou crave of me that song, Sabrina?
SABRINA.