THE BIRDS ARE TELLING ONE ANOTHER.

 


THE birds are telling one another, 

"The May is here, the May is here!" 

The merry thrush 'bove every other 

Shakes all the boughs with piping clear; 

His eager voice seems calling after 

The giddy brook that in its flow 

Oft lingers for a moment's laughter, 

Among the stepping-stones below. 

The birds are telling one another, 

On every bough in cadence clear, 

With note of love, can be no other, 

"The May is here; the May is here!" 





Enoch.