Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/464

446 A thrush by the rivulet s rim Grows gay from the breath of the grass, And sings to his sweetheart, the brook, That mirrors his love like a glass! O come to the meadow with me Bird-music is gleeful and good With Nature s full chorus of winds From the wonderful heart of the wood! Forget-me-nots gleam in the grass, For the morning is mirthful with love From robins that roam in the glen To the palpitant wings of the dove. O come to the meadow with me, To the rivulet s emerald edge, And hear the low lilt of the stream Where the dewdrops encircle the sedge; The young leaves look up to the sky, And the redbirds come hither to roam They love the brook s lyrical flow And its delicate fretwork of foam! O come to the meadow with me While the music of morning is heard, And the rapture of fetterless song Is sent from the heart of a bird! Come hither and wander with me, For Nature is breathing of love From violets veiled in the grass To the tremulous wings of the dove!