A Song
Dublin Core
Title
A Song
Description
Singst thou of love, my pretty bird,
With notes of restful song that bear
A message that methinks I've heard
Before. Singst thou of love, my bird,
Of love I sing, poor wounded soul,
'Tis of the night's deep gloom and fear,
This song that to thy heart has stole
Is love; 'tis love, poor wounded soul,
Singst thou of love?
Thy melody my heart has stirred.
Singst thou of love?
Thy ovice doth fill th morning airWith notes of restful song that bear
A message that methinks I've heard
Before. Singst thou of love, my bird,
Singst thou of love?
Of love I sing, poor wounded soul,
Of love I sing;
The melody that makes life whole,
Of love I sing.
'Tis of the day's bright sun and cheer,'Tis of the night's deep gloom and fear,
This song that to thy heart has stole
Is love; 'tis love, poor wounded soul,
Of love I sing.
Creator
W.H.A. Moore
Source
4:3, p. 3
Date
1890.10.11
Collection
Citation
W.H.A. Moore, “A Song,” Periodical Poets, accessed September 8, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/489.
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