Mathilde Blind

The Music-Lesson

    A thrush alit on a young-leaved spray,
            And, lightly clinging,
            It rocked in its singing
    As the rapturous notes rose loud and gay;
            And with liquid shakes,
            And trills and breaks,
    Rippled through blossoming boughs of May.

    Like a ball of fluff, with a warm brown throat
            And throbbing bosom,
            'Mid the apple-blossom,
    The new-fledged nestling sat learning by rote
            To echo the song
            So tender and strong,
    As it feebly put in its frail little note.

    O blissfullest lesson amid the green grove!
            The low wind crispeth
            The leaves, where lispeth
    The shy little bird with its parent above;
            Two voices that mingle
            And make but a single
    Hymn of rejoicing in praise of their love.