WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY
Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)
Vol. 1, No. 23: April 6, 2022
Welcoming April with a Quartet of Poems by
Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)
“Budding-Time Too Brief”
O little
buds, break not so fast!
The spring’s but new.
The skies will yet be brighter blue,
And sunny too.
I would you
might thus sweetly last
Till this
glad season’s overpast,
Nor hasten through.
It is so
exquisite to feel
The light warm Sun;
To merely know the winter done,
And life begun;
And to my
heart no blooms appeal
For
tenderness so deep and real,
As any one
Of these
first April buds, that hold
The hint of spring’s
Rare perfectness that May-time brings.
So take not wings!
Oh, linger,
linger, nor unfold
Too swiftly
through the mellow mould,
Sweet growing things!
And errant
birds, and honey-bees,
Seek not to wile;
And, Sun, let not your warmest smile
Quite yet beguile
The young
peach-boughs and apple-trees
To trust
their beauty to the breeze;
Wait yet awhile!
“The First
Redbird”
I heard a
song at daybreak,
So honey-sweet
and clear,
The essence
of all joyous things
Seemed
mingling in its cheer.
The frosty
world about me
I searched
with eager gaze,
But all was
slumber-bound and wrapped
In
violet-tinted haze.
Then
suddenly a sunbeam
Shot
slanting o’er the hill,
And once
again from out the sky
I heard that
honied trill.
And there
upon a poplar,
Poised at
its topmost height,
I saw a
little singer clad
In scarlet
plumage bright.
The poplar
branches quivered,
By dawn
winds lightly blown,
And like a
breeze-swept poppy-flower
The redbird
rocked and shone.
The blue
sky, and his feathers
Flashed o’er
by golden light,
Oh, all my
heart with rapture thrilled,
It was so
sweet a sight!
The northern cardinal (pictured
above) is the official State Bird of Illinois. (Photo Credit: Public Domain via
Wikimedia Commons)
“The
Redbird”
Swept
lightly by the south wind
The elm-leaves softly stirred,
And in their pale green clusters
There straightway bloomed a bird!
His glossy feathers glistened
With dyes as richly red
As any tulip flaming
From out the garden bed.
But ah, unlike the tulips,
In joyous strain, ere long,
This redbird flower unfolded
A heart of golden song!
“Up, Little Ones!”
A robin
redbreast, fluting there
Upon the
apple-bough,
Is telling
all the world how fair
Are
apple-blossoms now;
The
honey-dew its sweetness spills
From
cuckoo-cups, and all
The crocuses
and daffodils
Are dressed
for festival!
Such pretty
things are to be seen,
Such
pleasant things to do,
The April
Earth it is so green,
The April
sky so blue,
The path
from dawn to even-song
So joyous is
to-day,
Up, little
ones! And dance along
The
lilac-scented way!
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