Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY BIRD, by EMILY CHUBBUCK JUDSON

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MY BIRD, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ere last year's moon had left the sky
Last Line: And give her angel plumage there!
Alternate Author Name(s): Forester, Fanny; Judson, Emily E.
Subject(s): Mothers

ERE last year's moon had left the sky,
A birdling sought my Indian nest,
And folded, O, so lovingly,
Her tiny wings upon my breast.

From morn till evening's purple tinge,
In winsome helplessness she lies,
Two rose-leaves, with a silken fringe,
Shut softly on her starry eves.

There's not in Ind a lovelier bird;
Broad earth owns not a happier nest;
O God, thou hast a fountain stirred,
Whose waters nevermore shall rest!
This beautiful, mysterious thing,
This seeming visitant from Heaven,
This bird with the immortal wing,
To me -- to me, Thy hand has given.

The pulse first caught its tiny stroke,
The blood its crimson hue, from mine; --
This life, which I have dared invoke,
Henceforth is parallel with Thine.

A silent awe is in my room --
I tremble with delicious fear;
The future, with its light and gloom,
Time and Eternity, are here.

Doubts -- hopes, in eager tumult rise;
Hear, O my God! one earnest prayer:
Room for my bird in Paradise,
And give her angel plumage there!

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