A Misapprehension
Not Uncommon
In loneliness I wander’d;
When, lo, above me, ringing
Amid the breeze
That shook the trees,
I heard a bird’s glad singing.
I looked, and through the leaves could see
The warbler nod and chirp for me.
“One friend is left me yet,” thought I,
And ventur’d near
The song to hear;
But when he saw me drawing nigh,
Alas, in fright
He took to flight!
Not, not for me had been his care.
He sang to greet the sunny air,
And serve his own sweet nature.
In loneliness I ponder’d;
And lo, sweet laughter woke there
The gentlest rills,
That broke in trills
About the lips that spoke there.
Through smiles and blushes burst the glee,—
And eyes that fill’d and flash’d for me.
“Her soul,” I thought, “has heard my sigh”;
And, drawing near,
I bade her hear
My tale of love—but from her eye
The joy had flown.
Not I alone,
Alas, not I had been her care.
She fill’d the world with sweetness there,
To serve her own sweet nature.