To a Mocking Bird by Owen F. Aldis Lyrics

O Singer of the twilight solitude!
When moss-veiled oaks sigh at my weary dream,
Beside the sullen heron-haunted stream,
Thy laughing voice begins its gay prelude,
Mocking the boding owl with mimic scream;
Then o'er the hushed lagoon the night mists brood,
Till, sudden, throbbing with beatitude,
Rises thy vesper hymn of love supreme.
No old-world myth, no tragic love refrain
Dost thou to everglade and bayou tell;
So joyous is thy high exulting strain
My sad heart wakes to hope beneath the spell.
Faint grows the memory of passion's pain,
Forgotten is the song of Philomel.