The Sea-Mew

I had loved the pretty birds that by my window sung— The gentle thrush that had his nest the perfumed pines among; The chaffinch with his sudden note, his song so clear and bold; The sad rhyme of the robin, too, that came when winds grew cold; The happy lark whose benison fell from the sunny sky; The blackbird with his golden lute that serenaded by: The nightingale that through the night told his low rosary; The finches, with their little tunes, were all beloved by me. I leaned to hear each lovely note through each enchanted day! And thought no minstrelsy so fine, while all content I lay, When to my ear, across the sky, I heard a sea-bird's scream, And, flapping slow across the blue, I saw him flash and gleam. I cared not then for singing birds, I loved the sun no more. I heard the plashing of the waves upon a far-off shore, And lonely, lonely cried my heart in answer to its call— Ah, best I held the sea-mew's note that had no song at all!