As I was faring home The slow hill-climbing way A lonely bird sang once And seemed to bid me stay. I paused to rest and turned, And if I had not turned, I had not seen the west Behind me, how it burned. So when he sang again As I resumed the slope, My heart regarded him -- I turned again with hope. The sunset! -- and beneath The valley ebon dark And featureless, wherein A lamp was but a spark. But that he would not cease, But still would call and call When I must go was proof The sunset was not all. I left him to the waste And gathering stars above, In doubt if I could know What thing a bird would love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST RESERVATION by WALTER LEARNED ON A BOY'S FIRST READING OF THE PLAY OF 'KING HENRY THE FIFTH' by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL HELIOTROPE by HARRY THURSTON PECK THE SEA by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER DEATH AND CUPID; AN ALLEGORY by JOHN GODFREY SAXE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 5. ON LOVE OF PRAISE by MARK AKENSIDE CLEVEDON VERSES: 9. THE VOICES OF NATURE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |