Bob-o-link, The

Merrily sings the flattering Bob-o-link,
     Whose trilling song above the meadow floats;
The eager air speeds tremulous to drink
     The babbling sweetness of the liquid notes,
Whose silver cadence arise and sink,
     Shift, glide and shover, like the trembling motes
In the full gush of sunset. One might think
     Some potent charm had turned the auroral flame
Of the night-kindling north to melody,
     That in one gurgling rush of sweetness came
Mocking the ear, as once it mocked the eye,
With varying beauties twinkling fitfully;
Low hovering in the air, his song he sings
As if he shook it from his trembling wings.