Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/267



is my brave singer. With his beak of gold; Now my heart's a captive In his song's sweet hold.

O, the lark's a rover, Seeking fields above: But my serenader Hath a human love.

“Hark!” he says, “in winter Nests are full of snow, But a truce to wailing, Summer breezes blow.

“Hush!” he sings, “with night-time Phantoms cease to be, Join your serenader Piping on his tree.”

O, my little lover. Warble in the blue; Windless must I envy Skies so wide for you.