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letra de a march minstrel by alfred austin - richard mitchley

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hail! once again, that sweet strong note!
loud on my loftiest larch
thou quaverest with thy mottled throat
brave minstrel of bleak march!

hearing thee flute, who pines or grieves
for vernal smiles and showers?
thy voice is greener than the leaves
and fresher than the flowers

scorning to wait for tuneful may
when every throat can sing
thou floutest winter with thy lay
and art thyself the spring

while daffodils, half mournful still
m-ffle their golden bells
thy silvery peal o’er landscapе chill
surges, and sinks, and swells

across the unshеltered pasture floats
the young lamb’s shivering bleat:
there is no trembling in thy notes
for all the snow and sleet

let the bullace bide till frosts have ceased
the blackth-rn loiter long;
undaunted by the bl-stering east
thou burgeonest into song
yet who can wonder thou dost dare
confront what others flee?
thy carol cuts the keen march air
keener than it cuts thee

the selfish cuckoo tarrieth till
april repays his boast
thou, thou art lavish of thy trill
now when we need it most

the nightingale, while birds are coy
delays to chant its grief
brave throstle! thou dost pipe for joy
with never a bough in leaf

even fond turtle—doves forbear
to coo till woods are warm:
thou hast the heart to love and pair
ere the cherry blossoms swarm

the skylark, fluttering to be heard
in realms beyond his birth
soars vainly heavenward. thou, wise bird!
art satisfied with earth

thy home is not upon the ground
thy hope not in the sky:
near to thy nest thy notes resound
neither too low nor high
blow what wind will, thou dost rejoice
to carol, and build, and woo
throstle! to me impart thy voice;
impart thy wisdom too

- richard mitchley

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