Redbirds, redbirds,
           Long and long ago,
What a honey-call you had
           In hills I used to know;
Redbud, buckberry,
           Wild plum-tree
And proud river sweeping
           Southward to the sea,
Brown and gold in the sun
           Sparkling far below,
Trailing stately round her bluffs
           Where the poplars grow—
Redbirds, redbirds,
           Are you singing still
As you sang one May day
           On Saxton's Hill?