Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Thomas LakeHarris

432 Fledglings

WHY should we waste and weep?

The Summers weave

A nest of blossoms deep.

Sad hearts, why grieve?

We downy birdlings are

Unfledged for flight:

God’s love-wind woos afar;

Its name, Delight.

From arcades vast and dim

What songs disthrall?

Through Nature’s endless hymn,

Our kindred call.

Mysterious murmurings,

When night is lone,

Glide, as to lift our wings

For flights unknown.

In melody we form,

By sweetness fill:

For gladness, pure and warm,

Our bosoms thrill.

Soon shall our choiring bands,

Upborne for glee,

Find in God’s garden lands

Their bridal tree.

Eternity prepares

Her gift in Time,

And flows by fragrant airs

That lead the prime.

Chill shadows touch the eyes;

Their orbs are wet;

But God shall for us rise,

When stars have set.