Blackbird, blackbird in the cage, There's something wrong to-night. Far off the sheriff's footfall dies, The minutes crawl like last year's flies Between the bars, and like an age The hours are long to-night. The sky is like a heavy lid Out here beyond the door to-night. What's that? A mutter down the street. What's that? The sound of yells and feet. For what you didn't do or did You'll pay the score to-night. No use to reek with reddened sweat, No use to whimper and to sweat. They've got the rope; they've got the guns, They've got the courage and the guns; An that's the reason why to-night No use to ask them any more. They'll fire the answer through the door -- You're out to die to-night. There where the lonely cross-road lies, There is no place to make replies; But silence, inch by inch, is there, And the right limb for a lynch is there; And a lean daw waits for both your eyes, Blackbird. Perhaps you'll meet again some place. Look for the mask upon the face; That's the way you'll know them there -- A white mask to hide the face. And you can halt and show them there The things that they are deaf to now, And they can tell you what they meant -- To wash the blood with blood. But how If you are innocent? Blackbird singer, blackbird mute, They choked the seed you might have found. Out of a thorny field you go -- For you it may be better so -- And leave the sowers of the ground To eat the harvest of the fruit, Blackbird. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS TO THE PO by GEORGE GORDON BYRON EASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES CUSTER'S LAST CHARGE [JUNE 25, 1876] by FREDERICK WHITTAKER A ROCKING HYMN by GEORGE WITHER CAELIA: SONNETS: 3 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) PROLOGUE FOR MRS. SUTHERLAND'S BENEFIT NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS |