At the very dawn of day,
My robin from the hill flies down,
And from the fence across the way,
With black cap on his handsome head,
And slatish cloak and vest of red,
He calls me from my easeful bed:
Dear up, dear up, dear!
Cheer up, cheer up, cheer!
Constant as the coming morn,
He leaves his green fir copse to see
If I will greet his breezy horn,
And share his joy that day is here
To shimmer the sea, the fog to clear,
And yellow the corn of the hasting year:
Dear up, dear up, dear!
Cheer up, cheer up, cheer!
Ah robin, so debonair,
So glad of the darkness gone away,
So heedful of this heart of care,
Sweet to me is your roundelay,
Born of a spirit so tender, so gay,—
Let me join you in duet for aye!
Dear up, dear up, dear!
Cheer up, cheer up, cheer!