In the valley of my life
Sings a “Singing-Bird”,
And its voice thro’ calm and strife
Is sweetly heard.
In the day and thro’ the night
Sound the notes,
And its song thro’ dark and bright
Ever floats.
Other warblers cease to sing,
And their voices rest,
And they fold their weary wing
In their quiet nest.
But my Singing-Bird still sings
Without a cease;
And each song it murmurs brings
My spirit peace.
“Singing-Bird!” O “Singing-Bird!”
No one knows,
When your holy songs are heard,
What repose
Fills my life and soothes my heart;
But I fear
The day — thy songs, if we must part,
I'll never hear.
But “Singing-Bird!” ah! “Singing-Bird!”
Should this e'er be,
The dreams of all thy songs I heard
Shall sing for me.