The sparrow sits and sings, and sings; Softly the sunset's lingering light Lies rosy over rock and turf, And reddens where the restless surf Tosses on high its plumes of white. Gently and clear the sparrow sings, While twilight steals across the sea, And still and bright the evening-star Twinkles above the golden bar That in the west lies quietly. Oh, steadfastly the sparrow sings, And sweet the sound; and sweet the touch Of wooing winds; and sweet the sight Of happy Nature's deep delight In her fair spring, desired so much! But while so clear the sparrow sings A cry of death is in my ear: The crashing of the riven wreck, Breakers that sweep the shuddering deck, And sounds of agony and fear. How is it that the birds can sing? Life is so full of bitter pain; Hearts so wrung with hopeless grief; Woe is so long and joy so brief; Nor shall the lost return again. Though rapturously the sparrow sings, No bliss of Nature can restore The friends whose hands I clasped so warm, Sweet souls that through the night and storm Fled from the earth for evermore. Yet still the sparrow sits and sings, Till longing, mourning, sorrowing love, Groping to find what hope may be Within death's awful mystery, Reaches its empty arms above; And listening, while the sparrow sings, And soft the evening shadows fall, Sees, through the crowding tears that blind, A little light, and seems to find And clasp God's hand, who wrought it all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOUNTAIN FARM by MALCOLM COWLEY SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS THE QUESTION ANSWER'D by WILLIAM BLAKE LOVERS' INFINITENESS by JOHN DONNE THE CAGED SKYLARK by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS UPON THE DEATH OF SIR ALBERT MORTON'S WIFE by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS |