Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/173



Beyond my dingy window pane,
 * This beamy Sunday morn,

I watch the red-breast on the vane
 * And the ravens robbing corn;

Hard by, the Alabama boils
 * Its sallow flood along,

With drift-wood biers and forest spoils-—
 * A melancholy throng!

The rich horizon melts away
 * To an illumined arch,

With summer tresses all astray
 * Upon the brows of March;

The birds, inebriate with glees,
 * Seem happiest when they sing,

Thrilling the aromatic trees
 * With symphonies of Spring.