I. The merriest bird on bush or tree, Was Robin of the grove When, in the jocund spring time, he Sang to his nesting love. Unknowing he the art to frame Methodic numbers vain, But as each varied feeling came He wove it in his strain. With freedom gay He poured his lay, While heaved his little breast of fire, To rival all the woodland choir. II. Upon a day, a luckless day, When drove the wintry sleet Some urchins limed a willow spray, To catch poor Robin's feet. They sought by measured rule and note To change his woodland strain Do, re, mi, fa, he heeded not, He never sung again! His joy is o'er He sings no more, Nor knows the genial kindling thrill, That only freedom's children feel. III. You, who would dull the poets fire, With learning of the schools, Gay Fancy's feet with fetters tire, And give to Genius rules. Had bounteous Nature's counsel hung, Upon your will severe, Tom Moore had ne'er green Erin sung, Nor Burns the banks of Ayr. O'er awed I ween Both bards had been; Nor dared to strike the simple lute, In your majestic presence mute | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ESTRANGEMENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON NOT OURS THE VOWS by BERNARD BARTON THE DISAPPOINTMENT by APHRA BEHN POST-MORTEM by EMILY DICKINSON AIR: 'CAPTAIN JINKS' by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SAN GABRIEL by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN |