Were I A Bird

A poem by Edward Smyth Jones

Were I a bird free born to fly
Aloof on two wee, downy wings,
My canopy would be the sky
When rosy morn its dawning springs.

Were I a bird I'd sweetly sing
Earth's vesper song in tree-tops high,
And chant the carol of the Spring
To every weary passer by.

Were I a bird, the sweetest voice
That human ear has ever heard, -
The mocking-bird would be my choice,
For he's the sweetest singing bird!

Were I a bird my life would be
In keeping with the Will divine -
I'd sing His carols full and free
In spreading oak and cony pine!

Were I a bird through air I'd roam,
Just flitting on the morning breeze,
In search of summer's sunny dome,
To live contentedly at ease.

Were I a bird I'd sing a tune
For farmers seeking shady rest
Beneath the spreading oak in June,
In swinging boughs that rock my nest.

Were I a bird I'd scale the cliff
When dawns the bleak December day,
Far from the ice and snow I'd shift
Until the fairest day in May!

Were I a bird, a mocking-bird,
The King of birdie's singing sons,
My music would fore'er be heard
As I sweet sang to cheerless ones.

Were I a bird I'd seek my rest
When jocund Day blows out his light;
In boughs that hover o'er my nest
I'd sweetly sing, "Good Night, Good Night!"

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