The Oriole's Singing ~

I am a child of the winds and must hasten
The oriole's singing
You claim this is only its nature? 
But, oh, I must hurry -
Come, it is ever surprising!
To me it's the freshest, the newest of lyrics -
He's swinging in orchards this minute 
With tree-boughs as pink as a sunrise 
The sky like a pearl all about him -

The grasses are green - this too, were of 
     magic 
And never a whisper of triteness 
The grass is aflame with its ardor 
And violets, the violets are peering 
Blue-eyed and sudden -
The orchard, the orchard will wait? Not one 
       living minute!
It changes from Maytime to Maytime -
Enchants one, surprises 
Oh, I am a child of the woods and must hasten!