DAY turns to night And the Blackbird sings In the grey twilight A song of heavenly things. He sings and he sways, Is it joy or pain? What is the word he says That breaks the heart in twain? O Blackbird asthore, If I were in Heaven I'd find an open door Some sweet March even. I would leave that bliss To hear again Your dear wild ecstasies In a wet March lane. Joy of immortal things, Grief of mortality, The Blackbird sways and sings On a yet leafless tree. The soul within its cage Flutters in joy, in pain, The Blackbird sings—oh, Mage! In a wet March lane. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LADY'S PLEASURE by ROBERT GRAHAM SONNET TO A NEGRO IN HARLEM by HELENE JOHNSON SONG (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE WIDOW; SAPPHICS by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE BROOK: SPRING by LAURA ABELL EPITAPH by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE |