On Hearing a Winter Wren Sing in Winter
When wintry winds through woodlands blow
And naked tree-tops shake and shiver;
While all the paths were bound in snow,
And thick ice chains the merry river,
One little feathered denizen,
A plump and nut-brown winter wren,
Sings of springtime even there—
“Tsip-twis-ch-e-e-e cheerily-cheerily-dare”—
Who could listen and despair?
Charmed with the sweetness of his strain,
My heart found cheer in winter’s bluster;
The leafless wood was fair again,
Its ice-gems sparkled with new lustre.
The tiny, trembling, tinkling throat
Poured forth despair’s sure antidote,
No leafy June hears sweeter note—
“Tsip-twis-ch-e-e-e cheerily-cheerily-dare”
—
The essence of unspoken prayer.
—Lynn Tew Sprague, in Bird-Lore.