Like a soul on its way
To the gardens of God, it was loosed from the earth;
And the song that it sang was a pæan of mirth
For the raptures of birth.”
Juliette A. Owen.
THE MASTER’S PROTEST.
My song consists of all the notes
That flow from feathered songsters’ throats;
My heart is thrilled with all their pain,
Their sorrow, love, and joy again.