Sonnet CCCXXXIX

A thousand voices carolling,

Each shaded by the canopies of spring:

So often have I heard their charming song,

Not knowing where their tiny hearts belong!

I’ve sought the secret of the stony skies,

But never have I found that hidden prize.

Though dare I say they blush a brighter blue

Whenever their beloved trills a tune!

The grass has glowed with jealous emerald;

The sun has shone with gentler, warmer gold.

As if the world would bend toward their whims

At just one ringing note of songbird hymns!

There’s magic pouring from these feathered throats –

Have brighter seraphs ever sung such notes?