The Mocking-Bird In The City Poem by Caroline Howard Gilman

BIRD of the south! is this a scene to waken
Thy native notes in thrilling, gushing tone?
Thy woodland nest of love is all forsaken —
Thy mate alone!

While stranger-throngs roll by, thy song is lending
Joy to the happy, soothings to the sad;
O'er my full heart it flows with gentle blending,
And I am glad.

And I will sing, though dear ones, loved and loving,
Are left afar in my sweet nest of home;
Though from that nest, with backward yearnings moving,
Onward I roam!

And with heart-music shall my feeble aiding
Still swell the note of human joy aloud;
Nor, with untrusting soul, kind Heaven upbraiding,
Sigh 'mid the crowd.