The First Robin
FROM the elm tree's topmost bough,
Hark the robin's early song,
Telling one and all that now
Early spring-time hastes along;
Welcome tidings thou dost bring,
Little harbinger of spring.
Of the winter we are weary,
Weary of its frost and snow,
Longing for the sunshine cheery
And the brooklets gurgling flow;
Welcome tidings thou dost bring,
Little harbinger of spring.
Ring it out o'er hill and plain,
Through the garden's leafless bowers,
Till the glad earth springs again
Till the air is sweet with flowers!
Welcome tidings thou dost bring,
Little harbinger of spring.
Then, as thou hast done of yore,
Build thy nest and rear thy young
Close beside our cottage door,
In the woodbine leaves among.
Welcome tidings thou dost bring,
Little harbinger of spring.