Solitary wayfarer! Minstrel winged of the green wild! What dost thou delaying here, Like a wood-bewildered child Weeping to his far-flown troop, Whoop! and plaintive whoop! and whoop! Now from rock and now from tree, Bird! methinks thou whoop'st to me, Flitting before me upward still With clear warble, as I've heard Oft on my native Northern hill No less wild and lone a bird, Luring me with his sweet chee-chee Up the mountain crags which he Tript as lightly as a bee, O'er steep pastures, far among Thickets and briary lanes along, Following still a fleeting song! If such my errant nature, I Vainly to curb or coop it try Now that the sundrop through my frame Kindles another soul of flame! Whoop on, whoop on, thou canst not wing Too fast or far, thou well-named thing, Hoopoe, if of that tribe which sing Articulate in the desert ring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STORY OF THE END OF THE STORY by JAMES GALVIN THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE HAYLOFT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON AN ANNIVERSARY by JOHN MILLINGTON SYNGE THEY CALL IT BUSINESS by CHARLES G. ADAMS ENDURANCE by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN |