Bird Of Hope

Soar not too high,  O bird of Hope!
 Because the skies are fair;
The tempest may come on apace
 And overcome thee there.

When far above the mountain tops
 Thou soarest, over all –
If, then, the storm should press thee back,
 How great would be thy fall!

And thou wouldst lie here at my feet,
 A poor and lifeless thing, -
A torn and bleeding birdling,
 With limp and broken wing.

Sing not too loud, O bird of Hope!
 Because the day is bright;
The sunshine cannot always last –
 The morn precedes the night.

And if thy song is of the day,
 Then when the day grows dim,
Forlorn and voiceless thou wouldst sit
 Among the shadows grim.

Oh! I would have thee soar and sing,
 But not too high, or loud,
Remembering that day meets night –
 The brilliant sun the cloud.