What doth the blackbird in the boughs
Sing all day to his nested spouse?
What but the song of his old Mother-Earth,
In her mighty humour of lust and mirth?
'Love and God's will go wing and wing,
And as for death, is there any such thing?'--
In the shadow of death,
So, at the beck of the wizard Spring
The dear bird saith--
So the bird saith!
Caught with us all in the nets of fate,
So the sweet wretch sings early and late;
And, O my fairest, after all,
The heart of the World's in his innocent call.
The will of the World's with him wing and wing:--
'Life--life--life! 'Tis the sole great thing
This side of death,
Heart on heart in the wonder of Spring!'
So the bird saith--
The wise bird saith!