Iv

“The mocking-bird! and then weird fancy filled My soul with vision, and I saw a song Pursue a bird that was no bird--a voice Concealed in dim expressions of the spring,-- Who sits among the forests and the fields, With dark-blue eyes smiling to life the flowers,-- Where we strolled happy as the April hills:

A sunbeam, all the day that fell Upon the fountain,-- Like laughter gurgling in the dell Below the mountain,-- Drank, with its sparkle, one by one, The water-words that, in the sun, Made melody,--the sun-rays tell,-- That never yet was done.

A moon-ray, that had gone astray ’Mid wildwood alleys, Where Echo haunts the forest way Among the valleys, The livelong night upon the rocks Slept, hid among girl Echo’s locks, And stole her voice,--the moonbeams say,-- That mocks and only mocks.

A shadow, that had made its seat Amid the roses And thorns--the bitter and the sweet That life discloses-- Mixed with the rose-balm and the dew And crimson thorns that pierced it through, Until its soul,--the shades repeat,-- Was portion of them, too.

A Fairy found the beam of gold, And ray of glitter; The shadow, whose dim soul did hold Both sweet and bitter; And made a bird, that haunts the morn And night; that flits from flower to thorn, A voice of laughter,--it is told,-- Love, mockery, and scorn.