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Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of hia little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is this nest of ours,
Hidden among the Bummer flowers,
Chee, chee, chee!”
Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright, black wedding coat;
White are his shoulders, and white his crest.
Hear him call in his merry note:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look what a nice new coat is mine;
Sure, there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Robert of Lincoln’s Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Never was I afraid of man.
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight,
There, as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nice good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care,
Off his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nobody knows but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee!”
Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln’s a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
“Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee!”
(William Cullen Bryant )
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878), the first great American poet, was reared among the rugged hills of western Massachusetts. His mother began his education at home, and as a boy he spent many hours in the excellent library of his father, who was a country physician. He attended the district school, and later a private school, then was at Williams College for nearly a year.
He grew up in close touch with Nature, and his lonely life on the farm made him more serious and thoughtful than most boys of his age. By the time he was nine years old he was putting his thoughts into verse, and before he was eighteen he wrote “Thanatopsis,” one of the world’s classics. His love of writing led him to take up journalism. In 1825 he became editor of the Evening Post of New York, and he continued in this position for more than half a century, until his death.
Yet this busy editor of a great city newspaper found leisure to write poetry. He chose, for the most part, American subjects taken from his own surroundings and experience — the scenes and impressions of his boyhood, the flowers, the birds, the hills, of New England. By these poems Bryant opened men’s eyes to the beauty of Nature.
mead : meadow
brood : sit on eggs to make them hatch
braggart : someone who says he/she is better than others
knave : rascal
crone : an old woman
Answer the following questions.
1) Which lines imitate the song of the bobolink?
2) How are Robert of Lincoln and his Quaker wife dressed?
3) Why does the poet call the bobolink’s wife a quaker?
4) How is his song different from hers?
5) What makes him silent?
6) Why does the bird’s appearance change?
7) Where does he go for the winter?