Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/78

54 What bird wilt thou employ

To bring me word of thee?

For it would give them joy—

'Twould give them liberty—

To serve their former lord

With wing and minstrelsy.

A sadder strain mixed with their song,

They 've slowlier built their nests;

Since thou art gone

Their lively labor rests.

Where is the finch, the thrush,

I used to hear?

Ah, they could well abide

The dying year.