A reply

Lift up my heart, and sing again

As once you did when I was young.

Before I knew of woe and pain.

When every happy bird that sung

I sang to it, and it to me

Repeated half the melody.

Like a thrush at peep of light,

I would pipe my sunny lay,

Singing how the blackest night

Always has to run away

When the sun climbs from afar

Brandishing his scimitar.

Like an eagle's is your cry;

More of fierceness than of glee

Sent your pinions to the sky

Bounding our humanity;

Sent you winging to the sun

That is seen of every one.