WORDS, words, Ye are like birds. Would I might fold you, In my hands hold you Till ye were warm and your feathers a-flutter; Till, in your throats, Tremulous notes Foretold the songs ye would utter. Words, words, Ye are all birds! Would ye might linger Here on my finger, Till I kissed each, and then sent you a-winging Wild, perfect flight, Through morn to night, Singing and singing and singing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMPANIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SOMEBODY LOVED ME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; OR, THE BURSTING OF THE GUNS by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE ON A LUTE FOUND IN A SARCOPHAGUS by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE SKELETON OF THE FUTURE; AT LENIN'S TOMB by CHRISTOPHER MURRAY GRIEVE FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL [JUNE 16, 1775] by CLINTON SCOLLARD |