To a Bird

I'm listening, father, to a sound That I have heard thee say Did come to call thee to thy toil Just at the break of day.

It's sweet and thrilling melody Is ringing in the air, And tells me that the day will break With promise bright and fair.

I wonder if it is the same Bright warbler of the sky That came so oft to waken thee In busy days gone by.

I bless it though it may not be, And also fate that led It hither to dispel a dream That filled my soul with dread.

For thoughts of that real-seeming dream Still fill my heart with pain, And echoes of a stricken scream Come back to me again.

For thou had weary grown, I thought, And cast thy burden down, And I was here for evermore To toil on earth alone.

But when I woke and heard that bird Its sweet notes on me fell With re-assurance calm and sweet That told me all was well.

I thank it now most fervently For singing o'er my head; But, father, may it call in vain To wake me when thou'rt dead.

But, oh! could we together leave This weary world, at best, We'd happy be did song as sweet Proclaim our dawn of rest.