THE WINTER KING. (120)
1. Oh! what will become of thee, poor little bird?
The muttering storm in the distance is heard;
The rough winds are waking, the clouds growing black,
They'll soon scatter snowflakes all over thy back!
From what sunny clime hast thou wandered away?
And what art thou doing this cold winter day?
2. "I'm picking the gum from the old peach tree;
The storm doesn't trouble me. Pee, dee, dee!"
3. But what makes thee seem so unconscious of care?
The brown earth is frozen, the branches are bare:
And how canst thou be so light-hearted and free,
As if danger and suffering thou never should'st see,
When no place is near for thy evening nest,
No leaf for thy screen, for thy bosom no rest?
4. "Because the same Hand is a shelter for me,
That took off the summer leaves. Pee, dee, dee!"
5. But man feels a burden of care and of grief,
While plucking the cluster and binding the sheaf:
In the summer we faint, in the winter we're chilled,
With ever a void that is yet to be filled.
We take from the ocean, the earth, and the air,
Yet all their rich gifts do not silence our care.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153