Envoi

A little bird woke singing in the night,         Dreaming of coming day,     And piped, for very fulness of delight,         His little roundelay.     Dreaming he heard the wood-lark's carol loud,         Down calling to his mate,     Like silver rain out of a golden cloud,         At morning's radiant gate.     And all for joy of his embowering woods,         And dewy leaves he sung,--     The summer sunshine, and the summer floods         By forest flowers o'erhung.     Thou shalt not hear those wild and sylvan notes         When morn's full chorus pours     Rejoicing from a thousand feathered throats,         And the lark sings and soars,     Oh poet of our glorious land so fair,         Whose foot is at the door;     Even so my song shall melt into the air,         And die and be no more.     But thou shalt live, part of the nation's life;         The world shall hear thy voice     Singing above the noise of war and strife,         And therefore I rejoice!