While on the wing the bluebirds ring

Their wedding-bells to woods around.

 The flirting chewink calls his dear Behind the bush; and very near, Where water flows, where green grass grows, Song-sparrows gently sing, “Good cheer.”

The flirting chewink calls his dear

Behind the bush; and very near,

Where water flows, where green grass grows,

Song-sparrows gently sing, “Good cheer.”

 And, best of all, through twilight's calm The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm. How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing In days so sweet with music's balm!

And, best of all, through twilight's calm

The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm.

How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing

In days so sweet with music's balm!

 IV

 'Tis not a proud desire of mine; I ask for nothing superfine; No heavy weight, no salmon great, To break the record, or my line.

'Tis not a proud desire of mine;

I ask for nothing superfine;

No heavy weight, no salmon great,

To break the record, or my line.

 Only an idle little stream, Whose amber waters softly gleam, Where I may wade through woodland shade, And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream:

Only an idle little stream,

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