THE THANKFUL BIRD

Now I—yellowhammer—
Desire to give praise

For plentiful orchards
And sunshiny days:

The Spring gave me many
A bud for my bill,

And sent me a sweetheart
From over the hill.

She lent me a rose-bush
Along by the quick,

And there I was minstrel
To mother and chick ;

The leaves were our shutters,
The thorns were our bars,

When nested in blossoms
We slept under stars.

Though winter that changes
My music and gold

Is big on the hillside
And brave on the wold,