The Linnet
C. Stanford
I heard a linnet courting
His lady in the spring;
His mates were idly sporting,
Nor stayed to hear him sing
His song of love. --
I fear my speech distorting
His tender love.
One phrase was all his pleading,
He spoke of love and home:
To her who gave him heeding
He sang his question: “Come!”
His gay, sweet notes, --
So sadly marred in the reading!
His tender notes!
And when he ceased, the hearer
Re-echoed the refrain,
And swiftly perching nearer,
“Come, come!” she sang again.
Ah for their loves!
Would that my verse spake clearer,
Their tender loves!
Blest union of twin creatures
Unmarred by sense of doubt:
All summer's dry misfeatures
Such springtide trust bars out;
But of their loves
Fall short our wiser natures:
Their tender loves!