The Rainbird

I HEAR a rainbird singing Far off. How fine and clear His plaintive voice comes ringing With rapture to the ear! Over the misty wood-lots, Across the first spring heat, Comes the enchanted cadence, So clear, so solemn-sweet. How often I have hearkened To that high pealing strain Across wild cedar barrens, Under the soft gray rain! How often I have wondered, And longed in vain to know The source of that enchantment, That touch of human woe! O brother, who first taught thee To haunt the teeming spring With that sad mortal wisdom Which only age can bring?