LITTLE papoose Swung high in the branches Hears a song of birds, stars, clouds, Small nests of birds, Small buds of flowers. But he is thinking of his mother with dark hair Like her horse's mane. Fair clouds nod to him Where he swings in the tree, But he is thinking of his father Dark and glistening and wonderful, Of his father with a voice like ice and velvet, And tones of falling water, Of his father who shouts Like a storm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O BLACK AND UNKNOWN BARDS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SHE CAME AND WENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL IL PLEUT DOUCEMENT SUR LA VILLE by PAUL VERLAINE IMPRESSIONS: LA FUITE DE LA LUNE by OSCAR WILDE SOLILOQUIES OF A SMALL-TOWN TAXI-DRIVER: ON THE WRITING OF POETRY by EDGAR BARRATT |