One little feathered denizen,
A plump and nut-brown winter wren,
Sings of springtime even there—
“Tsip-twis-ch-e-e-e cheerily-cheerily-dare”—
Who could listen and despair?
Charmed with the sweetness of his strain,
My heart found cheer in winter’s bluster;
The leafless wood was fair again,
Its ice-gems sparkled with new lustre.
The tiny, trembling, tinkling throat