FROM a ruin thou art singing, O lonely, lonely bird! The soft blue air is ringing, By thy summer music stirred. But all is dark and cold beneath, Where harps no more are heard: Whence win'st thou that exulting breath, O lonely, lonely bird? Thy songs flow richly swelling To a triumph of glad sounds, As from its cavern-dwelling A stream in glory bounds! Though the castle-echoes catch no tone Of human step or word, Though the fires be quenched and the feasting done, O lonely, lonely bird! How can that flood of gladness Rush through thy fiery lay, From the haunted place of sadness, From the bosom of decay -- While the dirge-notes in the breeze's moan Through the ivy garlands heard, Come blent with thy rejoicing tone, O lonely, lonely bird? There's many a heart, wild singer! Like thy forsaken tower, Where joy no more may linger, Where Love hath left his bower: And there's many a spirit e'en like thee, To mirth as lightly stirred, Though it soar from ruins in its glee, O lonely, lonely bird! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE AND DEATH by SARA TEASDALE ON THE EMIGRATION TO AMERICA AND PEOPLING WESTERN COUNTRY by PHILIP FRENEAU THE FOURTH OF JULY by JOHN PIERPONT THE ABSINTHE-DRINKER by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 48. AL-WADOOD by EDWIN ARNOLD ASPIRATIONS: 5 by MATHILDE BLIND THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND by JOHN BYROM |