Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/230

212 O er magnolia, lime and cedar, From yon locust top, it swells, Like the chant of serenader, Or the rimes of silver bells! Listen! dearest, listen to it! Sweeter sounds were never heard! T is the song of that wild poet Mime and minstrel Mocking Bird. See him, swinging in his glory, On yon topmost bending limb! Caroling his amorous story, Like some wild crusader s hymn! Now it faints in tones delicious As the first low vow of love! Now it bursts in swells capricious, All the moonlit vale above! Listen! dearest, etc. Why is t thus, this sylvan Petrarch Pours all night his serenade? T is for some proud woodland Laura, His sad sonnets all are made! But he changes now his measure Gladness bubbling from his mouth Jest, and gibe, and mimic pleasure Winged Anacreon of the South! Listen! dearest, etc. Bird of music, wit and gladness, Troubadour of sunny climes, Disenchanter of all sadness, Would thine art were in my rimes.