Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/220
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
202
THE PHEASANT.
We both alike are here brief sojourners,
Waiting the season of our happier change.
Yet from the lone spray cheer the vale awhile,
And listening I will learn content from thee.
Waiting the season of our happier change.
Yet from the lone spray cheer the vale awhile,
And listening I will learn content from thee.
The Thrush.
Songster of the russet coat,
Full and liquid is thy note;
Plain thy dress, but great thy skill,
Captivating at thy will.
Full and liquid is thy note;
Plain thy dress, but great thy skill,
Captivating at thy will.
Small musician of the field,
Near my bower thy tribute yield,
Little servant of the ear,
Ply thy task, and never fear.
Near my bower thy tribute yield,
Little servant of the ear,
Ply thy task, and never fear.
I will learn from thee to praise
God, the Author of my days;
I will learn from thee to sing,
Christ, my Saviour and my King,
Learn to labour with my voice,
Make the sinking heart rejoice.
God, the Author of my days;
I will learn from thee to sing,
Christ, my Saviour and my King,
Learn to labour with my voice,
Make the sinking heart rejoice.
The Pheasant.
Close by the borders of the fringèd lake,
And on the oak's expanded bough, is seen,
What time the leaves the passing zephyrs shake,
And gently murmur through the sylvan scene,
The gaudy Pheasant, rich in varying dyes,
That fade alternate, and alternate glow:
Receiving now his colour from the skies,
And now reflecting back the watery bow.
He flaps his wings, erects his spotless crest,
His flaming eyes dart forth a piercing ray;
He swells the lovely plumage of his breast,
And glares a wonder of the Orient day.
And on the oak's expanded bough, is seen,
What time the leaves the passing zephyrs shake,
And gently murmur through the sylvan scene,
The gaudy Pheasant, rich in varying dyes,
That fade alternate, and alternate glow:
Receiving now his colour from the skies,
And now reflecting back the watery bow.
He flaps his wings, erects his spotless crest,
His flaming eyes dart forth a piercing ray;
He swells the lovely plumage of his breast,
And glares a wonder of the Orient day.