Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE HERMIT THRUSH, by JOHN BURROUGHS Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: In the primal forest's hush Last Line: A benediction on the air. Subject(s): Birds; Thrushes | ||||||||
In the primal forest's hush, Listen! . . . the hermit thrush! Silver chords of purest sound Pealing through the depths profound, Tranquil rapture, unafraid In the fragrant morning shade. Pausing in the twilight dim, Hear him lift his evening hymn, Clear it rings from mountain crest, Pulsing out from speckled breast. Day is done, the moon doth soar, Still the hermit, o'er and o'er, In the deep'ning twilight long Holds and swells his cadenced song. Purest sounds are farthest heard, Voice of man or song of bird, And the hermit's silver horn In dreaming night or dewy morn Is a serene, ethereal psalm, Devoutly gay, divinely calm -- The soul of song, the breath of prayer, In melody beyond compare, 'Tis borne afar on every breeze, Nor captive held by housing trees. Where louder voices faint and fail The hermit's purer tones prevail. O silver throat, O golden heart, What magic in thy artless art! In boyhood days I knew thee well And yielded to thy music's spell. Thy tawny wing, thy silent flight, Thy gesture soft when thou didst light, Thy graceful pose, thy gentle mien, Thy still reserve when thou wast seen. I knew the woods where thou didst bide, I knew the nest that was thy pride -- An open secret on the ground By russet leaves encompassed round. I linger long where thou dost sing, To drink my fill of everything That waves above or blooms below, And all that sylvan spirits know -- The hoary trunks, the whispering leaves, Pewee that pensive sighs and grieves, Clintonia with her modest bells, Columbine with honeyed cells, Violet pale and orchid rare, Fragrant brakes and maiden-hair, Mitchella with her floral twins, Crimson fruit that partridge wins, Oxalis with her girlish face, Squirrel corn with leafy grace, Herb Robert rank, with veined eye, And liver leaf "to match the sky" -- These and others fair and sweet Bedeck the floor of thy retreat. Two other birds oft with thee fare And syllable the wilding air. The veery thrush blows in his flute When all but thou and he are mute -- Reverb'rant note in leafy halls That echo to his fluty calls. And winter wren with thee abides, -- A dapper bird that skulks and hides, Now court'sying on a mossy stone, Then ducking 'neath a tree-trunk prone; Pert his mien, his wondrous throat Quivers and throbs with rapid note -- A lyric burst with power imbued To thrill and shake the solitude. But thou art master in these aisles, Our troubled hearts thy strain beguiles; Deep solemn joy thy soul knoweth well. Chant on, from heights where thou dost dwell, The hymn of faith, thy peace, thy prayer -- A benediction on the air. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF ODES: 1. by BASIL BUNTING THE THRUSH'S NEST by JOHN CLARE THE DARKLING THRUSH by THOMAS HARDY WHAT THE THRUSH SAID by JOHN KEATS THE BROWN THRUSH by LUCY LARCOM SONGS OUT OF SORROW: WOOD SONG by SARA TEASDALE THE WOOD THRUSH by SUSAN SHARP ADAMS A MIGRANT THRUSH by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT THE MUSIC-LESSON by MATHILDE BLIND |
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