Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG OF OWL'S HEAD, by NORMAN WILLIAMS BINGHAM


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONG OF OWL'S HEAD, by                    
First Line: Wake, earth! The eastern sky is red
Last Line: Burning alone for me.


Wake, earth! the eastern sky is red,—
I have watched your slumbers long;
The shades of night o'er the hills have fled,
So I'll sing my morning song:
Ho! awake, awake,
The guard of the lake
Will sing his morning song—

The foe ne'er comes to my rugged height,
He can forge no fetters for me;
So I sullenly sit on my throne of might
And cradle the clouds on my knee,—
Aye, when in the blast
They come bellowing past,
I cradle them on my knee.

I was born on the couch of chaos wild;
I was bred in the cradle of storms;
And destruction had never a rougher child,
Or horror a wilder form,—
Oh, answer me if
With crag and cliff
You e'er saw a wilder form.

Long ages ago, in youthful pride,
With the greenwood on my brow,
I claimed the lake as my joyous bride,
And I've watched o'er her sleep till now,—
Calmly and lone
With my cheek of stone,
I have watched o'er her sleep till now.

But my head is as bald as it e'er can be,
Where the moss of ages hath grown,
For time hath come with his scythe to me
And hath furrowed my cheeks of stone,—
Ah, see you not him
On my features grim
As he furrows my cheeks of stone?

'Mid the lightning flash and the thunder's peal
I have stood without dismay,
When the tempest comes and the proud oaks kneel
In the path of its checkless way,
With a form as bold
And a heart as cold
As you see me here today.

So I'll shout, I'll shout on my throne of might,
Till the earth shakes and the sea;
My torch is the lightning's vivid light
Burning alone for me,—
With its lurid gleam
O'er the mountain stream,
Burning alone for me.





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