WHAT news, what comfort do you bring?

Say, gossip, say!

As you come back with tired wing

Adown the airy way."


"So high above the trees I flew,

High, gossips, high!

I saw a little rift of blue,

A lovely glimpse of sky."


"And is it true that storms will cease?

True, gossip, true?"

"Oh, yes; the winds will be at peace,

The sent will shine on you!


"So chirp and chatter, sweet and gay,

Call, gossips, call!

Fast comes the happy spring this way,

Brave gossips all! "



Celia Thaxter.