Redbirds

Redbirds, redbirds,
   Long and long ago,
  What a honey-call you had
   In hills I used to know;

Redbud, buckberry,
   Wild plum-tree
  And proud river sweeping
   Southward to the sea,

Brown and gold in the sun
   Sparkling far below,
  Trailing stately round her bluffs
   Where the poplars grow—

Redbirds, redbirds,
   Are you singing still
  As you sang one May day
   On Saxton’s Hill?