In the forest a pleasant tree Grew and flourished verdantly, And a bird in its branches high Built her nest against the sky. All summer she sang and swayed In the greenness and the shade, Loving the murmurous glee Of the leaves where she flitted free. Darkly, tumultuously, A storm beat down on the tree, Which under the mighty stroke Earthward in ruin broke. But the bird from the branches high Flew unharmed to a clearer sky, For the bird, the bird was free! Oh, the bird, my soul, is free! Though storm blast my body's tree, Though winter blight or the fire consume, Other forests wait, other summers bloom, For the bird, my soul, which is free! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS IN MEMORY OF THE AUTHOR OF OBERMANN by MATTHEW ARNOLD EPITAPH: IN OBITUM M.S. XO MAIJ, 1614 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) SUMTER by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL MARGARET'S SONG by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE LAMENT OF AROMAITERAI by AROMAITERAI |