THE CHICKADEE.

     STOUT-HEARTED bird,
     When thy blithe note I heard
     From out the wind-warped tree—
          Chick-a-dee-dee!—
          There came to me

A sense of triumph, an exultant breath
Blown in the face of death.
For what are harsh and bitter circumstances
When the heart dances,
And pipes to rattling branch and icy lea,

          Chick-a-dee-dee!

     Sing loud, sing loud
     Against that leaden cloud,
     That draggeth drearily,
          Chick-a-dee-dee!

          Pour out thy free
Defiance to the sharpest winds that blow
And still increasing snow.
By courage, faith and joy art thou attended,
And most befriended

By thine own heart that bubbleth cheerily,
          Chick-a-dee-dee! [Page 159]