On Seeing A Snow-Bird Poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark

The woodman sits snug at his hearth,
The ground is all cover'd with snow,
The foliage has gone from the earth,
Then go, little snow-bird, now go!

The woodpecker, raven, and all,
Have hid them secure in their hold;
And the snow yet continues to fall,—
The weather is chilly and cold.

Thou art a precursor of ill
To the sad, unfortunate poor;
For the snowflakes follow thee still,
And lie cold at the poor man's door.

The swallow hath gone to the barn,
And the cuckoo, the robin, and wren;—
Then go, little bird, when 'tis warm,
Nor pay us a visit again.