"Fair little scout, that when the iron year
Changes, and the first fleecy clouds deploy,
Comest with such a sudden burst of joy,
Lifting on winter's doomed and broken rear
That song of silvery triumph blithe and clear"
- From ‘The Song Sparrow' by Archibald Lampman
Come one, and come all
Come to my garden and declare
Spring with joyful notes, sweet and rare,
Let me hear the pure call,
Come, sit in the trees tall;
Ring the changes, ring out the old
That despair tempts to install
Come, sit atop the ragged stone wall
Chorus from tiny chests, bold
Welcome back to the fold!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem