Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO A BLACKBIRD AND HIS MATE WHO DIED IN THE SPRING, by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO A BLACKBIRD AND HIS MATE WHO DIED IN THE SPRING, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: An iron hand has stilled the throats
Last Line: And smile, by your clear music blest.
Alternate Author Name(s): Kilmer, Joyce
Subject(s): Blackbirds


(For Kenton)



An iron hand has stilled the throats
That throbbed with loud and rhythmic glee
And dammed the flood of silver notes
That drenched the world in melody.
The blosmy apple boughs are yearning
For their wild choristers' returning,
But no swift wings flash through the tree.

Ye that were glad and fleet and strong,
Shall Silence take you in her net?
And shall Death quell that radiant song
Whose echo thrills the meadow yet?
ted morning of the year
Is old and stale now ye are gone.
No friendly songs the children hear
Among the bushes on the lawn.
When babies wander out a-Maying
Will ye, their bards, afar be straying?
Unhymned by you, what is the dawn?

Nay, since ye loved ye cannot die.
Above the stars is set your nest.
Through Heaven's fields ye sing and fly
And in the trees of Heaven rest.
And little children in their dreaming
Shall see your soft black plumage gleaming
And smile, by your clear music blest.






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