I felt thy rapture as I heard
Thy song in all its beauty;
To me it scarce seemed but a bird;
'Twas life, and love, and duty!
I could not see thy tiny form,
As softly closed the gloaming;
And like a wanderer in the storm
My heart was blindly roaming.
While, as thy song rang pure and clear
O'er sweet smell of the haying,