Treasure Island

Louisa Lawson

(1848-1920)

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To a Bird

Bright little warbler of the air.
The world to thee I ween is fair,
And free thy life from shade of care,
So gaily dost thou sing.
While from thy happy throat are sent,
Those floods of song in ravishment,
Thou shamest me without intent,
Sad mourner that I be.
But birdie dear, didst thou but see

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