The First Blue-Bird

by James Whitcomb Riley

Jest rain and snow! and rain again!   And dribble! drip! and blow! Then snow! and thaw! and slush! and then—   Some more rain and snow! This morning I was ’most afeard   To wake up—when, I jing! I seen the sun shine out and heerd   The first blue-bird of Spring!— Mother she ’d raised the winder some;— And in acrost the orchard come,   Soft as an angel’s wing, A breezy, treesy, beesy hum,   Too sweet for any thing! The winter’s shroud was rent apart—   The sun bust forth in glee,— And when that blue-bird sung, my hart   Hopped out o’ bed with me!

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