To the Cat-Bird

You, who would with wanton art
Counterfeit another’s part,
And with noisy utterance claim
Right to an ignoble name,—
Inharmonious !— why must you,
To a better self untrue,
Gifted with the charm of song,
Do the generous gift such wrong ?

Delicate and downy throat,
Shaped for pure, melodious note,—
Silvery wing of softest gray, —
Bright eyes glancing every way,—
Graceful outline, — motion free:
Types of perfect harmony !

Ah ! you much mistake your duty,
Mating discord thus "with beauty, —
’Mid these heavenly sunset gleams,
Vexing the smooth air with screams,—
Burdening the dainty breeze
With insane discordancies.

I have heard you tell a tale
Tender as the nightingale,
Sweeter than the early thrush
Pipes at day-dawn from the bush.
Wake once more the liquid strain
That you poured, like music-rain,
When, last night, in the sweet weather,
You and I were out together.

Unto whom two notes are given,
One of earth, and one of heaven,
Were it not a shameful tale
That the earth-note should prevail ?

For the sake of those who love us,
For the sake of God above us,
Each and all should do their best
To make music for the rest.
So will I no more reprove,
Though the chiding be in love:
Uttering harsh rebuke to you,
That were inharmonious, too.