Classic and Contemporary Poetry
I HAVE HEARD WHIPPOORWILLS, by LEXIE DEAN ROBERTSON Poet's Biography First Line: You say that I have grown so strange Last Line: That sing in kelser park. Subject(s): Birds; Hearts; Love; Whipporwills | ||||||||
YOU say that I have grown so strange Since I am home to stay? I have known shyer hearts to change When they were far away. The night was sweet in Kelser Park: A yellow moon lay spilled, And whippoorwills sang after dark In air that honey filled. I felt the beauty all around Nor knew how it could be, I laid my face against the ground With no one there to see Except an understanding heart Who shared the night with me. Life offered me a brimming cup But I dared only taste. That brew was far too strangely sweet, I gave it back in haste. It bruised my soul to give it back And say I would not drink. I know how breaking on the rack Can make a drooling maniac For I felt ancient tortures sink Through me with every clanking link That chained me back to sober day Where sedate worlds move on their way. I did not want to think or feel, I longed to dance some giddy reel With all the little shaking leaves That shimmered in the scented air, To catch the spilled moon in my hair, To wear the lace the spider weaves. I longed to sit upon a star And laugh aloud to see How foolish righteous people are In awe of mystery. To be a fragment of the note That tumbled from the dark bird's throat And strike to every lover's ear The shivery green pain of fear, For love is brief and time is long To listen to a sad bird's song. I longed to lie in the lush grass And lure the wanton winds to pass Along the cool white length of me As if I were a crystal tree; To slide down from the shining moon On some smooth plane of sky And lose me in a rose-drunk swoon Where purple beetles fly; To know for mine each old delight That June holds hidden in her night. (I was a little mad, I think, When I refused that subtle drink.) And all the while a whippoorwill Called from a dusky tree, Whose every aching silvered note Was echoed deep in me. But I have come back home again To keep my little house, And live the mincing nibbled years As grey as any mouse. Yet though my ways seem just the same, My heart has known the heat of flame, And I am like a wind-tossed spark Since I have heard the whippoorwills That sing in Kelser Park. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WHIPPOORWILL IN THE WOODS by AMY CLAMPITT PRICELESS GIFTS by OLIVE MAY COOK THE WHIPPOORWILL'S SONG by ELIZABETH COX GILLILAND AT THE TOUCH OF A BIRD by LILLIAN IONE OLSEN SONGS TO A.H.R.: 10. ASSUAGEMENT by CALE YOUNG RICE TO ANNIE by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY A CHANT OF MY BELOVED by LEXIE DEAN ROBERTSON |
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