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Sweet little bird on yonder tree,
Fly to the town with song of glee
And comfort there some lonely soul,
Thou sweetest, dearest oriole!
Perch on an open window sill,
And then pour forth thy mellowest trill.
What griefs thy carol will console,
Thou sweetest, dearest oriole!
A tale of hope to each sad heart
Thy notes of love will soon impart;
And in their memory will roll
The sweet strain of the oriole.
— Christine B. Moray
Birds and Nature, Vol. 12 No. 5 [December 1902]