“Ye birds that fly thro' the fields of air,
What lessons of wisdom and truth ye bear!
Ye would teach our souls from the earth to rise;
Ye would we all groveling scenes despise;
Ye would tell that all its pursuits are vain,
That pleasure is toil-ambition and pain—
That its bliss is touched with a poisoning leaven,
Ye would teach us to fix our aim in heaven.
“Beautiful birds of lightsome wing,
Bright creatures that come with the voice of spring;
We see you array'd in the hues of the morn,
Yet ye dream not of pride and ye wist not of scorn!
Though rainbow splendor around you glows,
Ye vaunt not the beauty which nature bestows;
Oh! 'What a lesson for glory are ye,
How ye preach the grace of humility.
“Swift birds, that skim o'er the stormy deep,
Who steadily onward your journey keep,
Who neither for rest nor for slumber stay,
But press still forward, by night or day—
As in your unwearying course ye fly,
Beneath the clear and unclouded sky;
Oh! may we, without delay, like you,
The path of duty and right pursue.
“Sweet birds that breathe the spirit of song,
And surround heaven's gate in melodious throng,
Who rise with the earliest beams of day,
Your morning tribute of thanks to pay:
You remind us that we should likewise raise
The voice of devotion and song of praise,
There's something about you that points on high,
Ye beautiful tenants of earth and sky!”