Excerpt from The Magazine of Poetry, Vol. 3: A Quarterly Review; January October, 1891
And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree; And in and out, when the eaves drip rain, The swallows are twittering ceaselessly.
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, Be the skie... s above dark or fair, There is ever a song that our hearts may hear There is ever a song somewhere, my dear There is ever a song somewhere!
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, In the midnight black, or the mid-day blue; The robin pipes when the sun is here.
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