Canadian Born

by Emily Pauline Johnson



The Songster


 

Music, music with throb and swing,
    Of a plaintive note, and long;
’Tis a note no human throat could sing,
No harp with its dulcet golden string,—
Nor lute, nor lyre with liquid ring,
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    Is sweet as the robin’s song.

He sings for love of the season
    When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
    That his breast was born for song.
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Calling, calling so fresh and clear,
    Through the song-sweet days of May;
Warbling there, and whistling here,
He swells his voice on the drinking ear,
On the great, wide, pulsing atmosphere
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    Till his music drowns the day. [Page 23]

He sings for love of the season
    When the days grow warm and long,
For the beautiful God-sent reason
    That his breast was born for song. [Page 24]
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