Whither away, Bluebird,
Whither away?
The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky
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Whither away, Bluebird,
Whither away?
The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky
Thou still canst find the color of thy wing,
The hue of May.
Warbler, why speed, thy southern flight? ah, why,
Thou, too, whose song first told us of the Spring?
Whither away?

In the thickets and the meadows
Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa.
On the summit of the lodges
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In the thickets and the meadows
Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa.
On the summit of the lodges
Sang the robin, the Opechee.