Kids Poems » The Golden Minstrel

Where, from thousand honey-springs,
Opening blossoms feed the bee,
Some melodious warbler sings,
Bosomed deep in yonder tree.

On the breeze the music floats
With the perfume of the flower,
Pouring forth in mellow notes
From the lovely minstrel's bower.

'Mid the leaves and clustered bloom,
Where to shroud his dress he stole,
Now appears his golden plume ;
'Tis a brilliant Oriole.

Little jewel ! hidden there,
Still he had remained concealed,
Had not that mellifluous air
Thus his covert form revealed.

Not to win himself a name
Would he so his powers display ;
Nor to swell a creature's fame ;
'Tis to God he pours the lay.

Oft it seems as if the birds
Came with lessons sweet to man ;
That to pure, unwritten words
Their delicious music ran.

Ever seem they to rejoice,
In the sunshine, or the showers ;
Gratitude attunes their voice
Unto Him who gave their powers.

Under blue or sombre sky,
On the bough or in the dust,
They've a bright and cheerful eye,
And a heart of truth and trust.

In his leafy, calm retreat,
Like a happy human soul
Singing at its Father's feet,
Is the lovely Oriole.

Sweet as incense up the skies,
Welcome to his Maker's ear,
Roll the artless melodies
From the little warbler here.

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