The Poetry Corner

Were I A Bird

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!"