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226 No warblers now to wake the morn,
 * Or charm the lonely evening hour!
 * The warblers all are gone.

Wild is the dreary prospect round, Hushed is the murmuring torrents’ sound, And solemn silence reigns profound,
 * Terrific and alone!

Wild the deserted groves appear, Untuneful, desolate, and drear!

But ah! yon songster’s glad return
 * Proclaims thy reign will soon be o’er;

And bids the heart no longer mourn,
 * The Spring will soon return once more,
 * And Nature smile serene.

Her smiles shall dissipate the gloom, Again the fairest flowers shall bloom, And Summer soon her seat resume,
 * Her robes of brightest green;

Again the groves in state shall rise, And purest azure gild the skies.

Hail! grateful songster, tuneful bird!
 * Thou earliest pledge of spring, all hail!

How sweet thy plaintive notes are heard
 * Floating adorn the balmy gale!
 * How sweet thy morning song!