Bluebird and Cardinal

                                  I
Thou winged symbol of the quiet mind, 
Thou straying violet, flying flower of spring, 
Heaven-hued and heaven-hearted! Thou dost sing 
As thou some sweet remembered thought didst find, 
And, counseling with thyself in musing kind, 
Didst softly say it over. Thy swift wing 
Knows but a quiet rhythm; thou a thing 
Of peace, to passion innocently blind.

Thy russet breast means married love, long hope, 
Sheltered experience, small and sweet and sure. 
All of the brown earth’s natural purity; 
But something heavenly, beyond our scope, 
Steeped thy blue wing in color strange and pure, 
Intense and holy as the mirrored sky.

                                  II
Pulse of the gorgeous world, jubilant, strong,—
Thy song a whistled splendor, and thy coat 
A fiery song! From thy triumphant throat 
How I have heard it pouring, loud and long. 
Whipping the air as with a scarlet thong— 
The joyous lashing of thy triple note 
Which all the tamer noonday noises smote 
And clove a royal pathway through the throng!

Thou singest joy of battle, joy of fame. 
Glory, and love of woman; joy of strife
With life’s wild fates; and scorn’st, with jocund breath 
For prudence’ sake to dim thy feathered flame— 
Thou heart of fire, epitome of life, 
Full-throated flouter of vindictive death!

                                  III
And lo, among the leafy, hidden groves 
Within my heart, they both do flit and nest, 
Saintly blue wing and vaunting scarlet crest, 
Yea, all of life and all its myriad loves. 
Even as Nature holds them, sifts and proves 
And balances, so shall my soul find rest 
In Her large tolerance, which without rest 
Or lagging, toward some wide conclusion moves.

So, though I weary sometimes of the stress, 
Leave me not, little lovers of the air. 
Dearest of Nature’s fine antitheses! 
Thou of the musing voice and heavenly dress. 
Thou, royal firebrand,—neither could I spare. 
My scarlet Passion, nor my winged Peace!