The Promise.

A poem by Juliana Horatia Ewing


Five blue eggs hatching,
With bright eyes watching,
Little brown mother, you sit on your nest.


Oh! pass me blindly,
Oh! spare me kindly,
Pity my terror, and leave me to rest.


Hush! hush! hush!
'Tis a poor mother thrush.
When the blue eggs hatch, the brown birds will sing--
This is a promise made in the Spring.


Five speckled thrushes
In leafy bushes
Singing sweet songs to the hot Summer sky.
In and out twitting,
Here and there flitting,
Happy is life as the long days go by.


Hush! hush! hush!
'Tis the song of the thrush:
Hatched are the blue eggs; the brown birds do sing--
Keeping the promise made in the Spring.

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