Sonnet Xi Poem by Robert Anderson

TO THE SAME.

Now angry Winter's breath is felt no more,
And hush'd the blast that rag'd the woods along;
Thou welcome partner of my scanty store,
Dost give thy little all--a cheerful song.
Sweet is that song of gratitude to me,
Tho' oft methinks each note doth bid adieu.
Poor bird! would man to man but prove so true
Thro' life's rough voyage as I have been to thee,
How cheerly mortals might their path pursue,
Who sink beneath the load of poverty!
Tho' thy wild minstrelsy to me is dear,
Yet go thy ways, fond wand'rer, seek the grove;
Spring calls thee forth--go taste the joys of love;
And when wild Autumn Summer's sweets shall sear,
Revisit then my cot--again I'll prove
Thy friend, and shield thee from the storm severe.