Singing Blue

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The Bluebird

Poem by John Burroughs


A wistful note from out the sky, “Pure, pure, pure,” in plaintive tone,

As if the wand’rer were alone, And hardly knew to sing or cry.

But now a flash of eager wing, Flitting, twinkling by the wall,


And pleading sweet and am’rous call,– Ah, now I know his heart doth sing!

O bluebird, welcome back again, Thy azure coat and ruddy vest

Are hues that April loveth best,– Warm skies above the furrowed plain.


The farm boy hears thy tender voice, And visions come of crystal days,

With sugar-camps in maple ways, And scenes that make his heart rejoice.


The lucid smoke drifts on the breeze, The steaming pans are mantling white,

And thy blue wing’s a joyous sight, Among the brown and leafless trees.


Now loosened currents glance and run, And buckets shine on sturdy boles,

The forest folk peep from their holes, And work is play from sun to sun.


The Downy beats his sounding limb,The nuthatch pipes his nasal call,

And robin perched on treetop tall Heavenward lifts his evening hymn.


Now go and bring thy homesick bride, Persuade her here is just the place

To build a home and found a race In Downy’s cell, my lodge beside.

Additional information

Size WxH (Inches)

10×8, 14×11, 16×12, 20×16, 24×18, 30×20, 30×24, 36×24, 40×30

Giclée Canvas Print or Archival Paper

Giclée Canvas Print, Archival Paper Print


No Frame (Rolled), No Frame (Mounted Canvas), Oxford Walnut Finish 1.75in, Highland Park Black and Gold 2.75in, Antique Bronze Scoop 3.25in


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