Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FALCON, by GRACE UPDEGRAFF BERGEN



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THE FALCON, by            
First Line: So oft about me I can see the ancient art of falconry
Last Line: So near my heart!
Subject(s): Falcons


So oft about me I can see the ancient art of Falconry;
From resting on the rigid wrist, the falcon flies
And strikes his quarry till it dies.

The hooded bird unleashed and free
Blinks at the light of day and quicker than a winged dart
Is on his prey.

Its fury past, the falcon then returns
To don its hood and leash, and wait its master's whim --
To sit or fly at his command; to serve but him.

So like ourselves, our passions and our moods
Are held in leash, are covered with a hood:
One liberated flight and lo! we have destroyed
So much of good.

Perhaps we call the wild bird back
To rest again upon the arm,
But some emotion or some love was stricken to its death
Beyond all harm.

Swift falcon, wilt thou never die with falconry
Thy outlived art?
Why dost thou rest with hooded head
So near my heart!





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