by Barry Cornwall [Bryan Waller Procter] (?)[1]
Originally published in The Keepsake for 1828 (Hurst, Chance, and Co.; Nov 1827).
I.
Pretty bird! O pretty bird!
Never yet in forest heard,—
Never where the fawns are leaping,—
Never where the stream is sleeping!
II.
Never yet on mountains green,
Or in meadows hast thou been;—
Never on the branches clinging,—
Never in the pine-tree singing!
III.
Never!—Yet, dear bird, with me
Thou hast flown across the sea,
Where the winds are ever blowing,
And the mighty tides are flowing:
IV.
And thy tongue hath sounded sweet
In the busy city's street;
In the silence of the morning;
In the night;—(a gentle warning,
V.
Driving from the darkness themes
Evil, and malicious dreams:
And through all the changing hours
Wreathing every thought with flowers.)
VI.
Thou didst come, a blessing crown'd,
(Thou, who wast in winter found!)
To thy gentle mother's breast
Bearing gentler, softer rest!
VII.
—Can the nightingale, whose tone
Saddens all the forest lone,—
Can the vernal thrush, who sings
Like the gush of silver springs,—
Or the bird who meets the sun,
Ever do as thou hast done?—
1. The Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry website provides this attribution.