Poem June 20, 1903 Issue

Singing Birds

Boston Transcript

O singing birds, O singing birds, ye sing in field and sky
The simple songs of love and joy ye sang in days gone by;
I hear you in the meadows now and up the mountain stream,
And as I listen to your voice I dream an old-world dream.

O singing birds, O singing birds, who pipe in shade and sun,
Ye fill the world with gladness still, ye bind us all in one;
Your songs are of untroubled days, of mornings glad and free,
And merry rivers leaping down the mountains to the sea.

Boston Transcript.

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