The Thrush

Across the land came a magic word When the earth was bare and lonely, And I sit and sing of the joyous spring, For 'twas I who heard, I only! Then dreams came by, of the gladsome days, Of many a wayside posy; For a crocus peeps where the wild rose sleeps, And the willow wands are rosy! Oh! the time to be! When the paths are green, When the primrose-gold is lying 'Neath the hazel spray, where the catkins sway, And the dear south wind comes sighing. My mate and I, we shall build a nest, So snug and warm and cosy, When the kingcups gleam on the meadow stream, Where the willow wands are rosy!