Winter-Tired

I wus a settin' by my winder
 Lookin' out the other day,
On the Airth all white with snowdrifts —
 Look you ever which-a-way;
An' while it all wus cleanly
 Like a soul that's washed from sin,
I could not help a longin'
 Fur the robins an' the green.


I am tired of all this sollum white,
 Bare boughs an' tongueless brook;
The Airth is like a shrouded corpse
 No matter whur I look.
O, I want to see the robins
 An' hear the bluebirds sing,
An' in the pon' below the barn
 The bullfrog swear its Spring!


I want to see white turn to brown,
 An' then the brown turn green,
The hillsides put their mournin' off
 As fifty times I've seen.
O, I want to hear that tongue-tied brook
 Go singin' on its way,
Ashoutin' as it runs along:
 "The robins 've come to stay!"