Bliss Carman

FAR off I hear a rainbird.

Listen! How fine and clear

His plaintive voice comes ringing

With rapture to the ear!

Over the misty wood-lots,

Across the first spring heat,

Comes the enchanted cadence,

So clear, so solemn-sweet.

How often I have hearkened

To that high pealing strain,

Across the cedar barrens,

Under the soft gray rain!

How often I have wondered,

And longed in vain to know

The source of that enchantment—

That touch of long ago!

O brother, who first taught thee

To haunt the teeming spring

With that divine sad wisdom

Which only age can bring?