When on a summer's morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or any bird in song; And common leaves that hum all day, Without a throat or tongue. And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, Back in my room alone, My heart has many a sweet bird's song -- And one that's all my own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD by ROBERT BROWNING A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS by ROBERT HERRICK ON LENDING A PUNCH BOWL by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ON PASSING THE NEW MENIN GATE by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES LONG AGO by CLARA EXLINE BOCKOVEN ON THE BIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |