April Airs: A Book of New England Lyrics

by Bliss Carman


 

THE RAINBIRD


 

I HEAR a rainbird singing
Far off. How fine and clear
His plaintive voice comes ringing
With rapture to the ear!

Over the misty wood-lots,

5
Across the first spring heat,
Comes the enchanted cadence,
So clear, so solemn-sweet.

How often have I hearkened
To that high pealing strain

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Across wild cedar barrens,
Under the soft gray rain!

How often have I wondered,
And longed in vain to know
The source of that enchantment,

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That touch of human woe!

O brother, who first taught thee
To haunt the teeming spring
With that sad mortal wisdom
Which only age can bring?

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