LAST YEAR'S THRUSH.
He has come back again to his home in the tree, The thrush that last year sang to sweetly to me; His song is the same.—and to me it doth seem The long months of winter have all been a dream. For there stand the willows as green as of yore, Fann'd by the soft breezes that tann'd them before, And from their rich, verdurous, depths, sweet and clear Are trill'd the blithe notes of the thrush of last
year! And yet, merry song bird, I am not deceived, Tho' fain had my heart in such magic believ'd;— We cannot stand still on this journey of ours, Nor blossom anew like trees and the flow'rs The world must spin round on its wonderful way, And leave us forgotten,—poor mites of a day. Past hours and lost faces though cherished and dear, Can never return, like the thrush of last year! Then teach me thy rapture, oh, minstrel divine, And let my faint heart learn the courage of thine; For tho' thou art mortal and feeble,—in truth, Thou singst like a poet renewed in his youth! From thee I would learn, with heart cheerful and
strong, To fling to the future a challenge in song,— To give to the past nor a sigh nor a tear, But greet with fresh hope every incoming year! —WYCH ELM.
Inch Valley, October 20 1890.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18901030.2.137
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 1916, 30 October 1890, Page 29
Word Count
233LAST YEAR'S THRUSH. Otago Witness, Issue 1916, 30 October 1890, Page 29
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