Explore "Tales of a Wayside Inn" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was the season, when through all the land / The merle and mavis build, and building sing / Those lovely lyrics, written by His hand, / Whom Saxon Caedmon calls the Blitheheart King; / When on the boughs the purple buds expand, / The banners of the vanguard of the Spring, / And rivulets, rejoicing, rush and leap, / And wave their fluttering signals from the steep.
The robin and the bluebird, piping loud, / Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee; / The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud / Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be; / And hungry crows assembled in a crowd, / Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly, / Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said: / "Give us, O Lord, this day our daily bread!"