When on a Summer's Morn

When on a summer’s morn I wake,

And open my two eyes,

Out to the clear, born-singing rills

My bird-like spirit flies;

To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush,

Or any bird in song;

And common leaves that hum all day,

Without a throat or tongue.

And when Time strikes the hour for sleep,

Back in my room alone,

My heart has many a sweet bird’s song—

And one that’s all my own.