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James Russell Lowell - The Recall
Work rating: Low

Come back before the birds are flown,
Before the leaves desert the tree,
And, through the lonely alleys blown,
Whisper their vain regrets to me
Who drive before a blast more rude,
The plaything of my gusty mood,
In vain pursuing and pursued!

Nay, come although the boughs be bare,
Though snowflakes fledge the summer`s nest,
And in some far Ausonian air
The thrush, your minstrel, warm his breast.
Come, sunshine`s treasurer, and bring
To doubting flowers their faith in spring,
To birds and me the need to sing!
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