The Song of a Sea Minstrel
No bird perch on high boughs,
Merrily are straggling they,
As Spring invades the bay.
Across the azure sky,
High and high the blithe birds fly,
Nowhere a cry or sigh.
Now at dusk they glide fast—
Lo! Even the sun is tired,
And down the West he mired.
The trees are strong upright,
‘Midst the lissome cloud and clime,
They kiss the moon at night.
And when the ocean roars,
Fidgety waves play around
The pregnant shells earth-bound.
I hear that hollow sound,
As night with its thick, dark shroud
Smothers the sea and ground.
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