Were I a bird free born to fly
      Aloof on two wee, downy wings,
My canopy would be the sky
      When rosy morn its dawning springs.

Were I a bird I'd sweetly sing
      Earth's vesper song in tree-tops high,
And chant the carol of the Spring
      To every weary passerby.

 Were I a bird, the sweetest voice
      That human ear has ever heard, 
The mocking-bird would be my choice,
      For he's the sweetest singing bird!

Were I a bird my life would be
      In keeping with the Will divine.
I'd sing His carols full and free
      In spreading oak and cony pine!

Were I a bird through air I'd roam,
      Just flitting on the morning breeze,
In search of summer's sunny dome,
      To live contentedly at ease.

Were I a bird I'd sing a tune
      For farmers seeking shady rest
 Beneath the spreading oak in June,
      In swinging boughs that rock my nest.

Were I a bird I'd scale the cliff
      When dawns the bleak December day,
Far from the ice and snow I'd shift
      Until the fairest day in May!

Were I a bird, a mocking-bird,
      The King of birdie's singing sons,
My music would fore'er be heard
      As I sweet sang to cheerless ones.

Were I a bird I'd seek my rest
      When jocund Day blows out his light;
In boughs that hover o'er my nest
      I'd sweetly sing, "Good Night, Good Night!"

This poem is in the public domain.