NO BIRD is singing In cloud or on tree, No eye is beaming Glad welcome to me; The forest is tuneless; Its brown leaves fast fall -- Changed and withered, they fleet Like hollow friends all. No door is thrown open, No banquet is spread; No hand smoothes the pillow For the Wanderer's head; But the eye of distrust Sternly measures his way, And glad are the cold lips That wish him -- good day! Good day! -- I am grateful For such gentle prayer, Though scant be the cost Of that morsel of air. Will it clothe, will it feed me, Or rest my worn frame? Good day! wholesome diet, A proud heart to tame. Now the sun dusks his glories Below the blue sea, And no star its splendor Deems worthy of me; The path I must travel, Grows dark as my fate, And nature, like man, can Wax savage in hate. My country! my country! Though step-dame thou be, Yet my heart in its anguish, Cleaves fondly to thee; Still in fancy it lingers By mountain and stream, And thy name is the spirit That rules its wild dream. This heart loved thee truly, -- And O! it bled free, When it led on to glory Thy proud chivalry; And O! it gained much from Thy prodigal hand, -- The freedom to break in The stranger's cold land! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SIXTEEN MONTHS by CARL SANDBURG NEW YEAR'S DAWN - BROADWAY by SARA TEASDALE THE WANTS OF MAN by JOHN QUINCY ADAMS RIDDLE: A STAR by MOTHER GOOSE I DO NOT LOVE THEE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY SHUT OUT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |