by Alice Stone Blackwell
song of the Stork
STORK, I welcome
Thou stork, I welcome thy return.
Thy coming is the sign of spring,
And thou dost joy and gladness bring.
Stork, upon our roof descend.
Thou stork, upon our roof descend.
Upon our ash-tree build thy nest,
Our dear one, and our honoured guest.
Stork, I would complain to thee:
Yes, stork, I would complain to
A thousand sorrows I would tell,
The griefs that in my bosom dwell.
Stork, when thou our house didst
When last our ash-tree thou didst
Cold, blasting winds the heavens
And all our smiling flowers were
Clouds obscured the brilliant sky;
Dark clouds obscured the brilliant
Up there in flakes they broke the
And Winter killed the flowers below.
for thy sweet sake,
By whirlwinds tessed and swayed
The stranger's accents round me
These burning thoughts that wander
No man such longings wild can bear
As in my heart forever rise.
Oh that the wind might waft me there
Where my beloved's vineyard lies!
Oh that I were the zephyr fleet,
That bends her vines and roses sweet.
For I am piteous and forlorn,
As is the bird that haunts the night;
Who inconsolably doth mourn
Whene'er his rose is from his sight.
O'er earth and ocean, everywhere
I gaze in vain, with weary eyes.