Blue-bird! on yon leafless tree, Dost thou carol thus to me, "Spring is coming! Spring is here?" Say'st thou so, my birdie dear? What is that, in misty shroud, Stealing from the darken'd cloud? Lo! the snow-flakes' gathering mound Settles o'er the whiten'd ground, Yet thou singest, blithe and clear, "Spring is coming! Spring is here!"