Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A DEAD BIRD IN WINTER, by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A DEAD BIRD IN WINTER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The cold, hard sky and hidden sun
Last Line: From nestled blossoms round my grave.
Alternate Author Name(s): Hedbrooke, Andrew
Subject(s): Birds; Winter


THE cold, hard sky and hidden sun,
The stiffened trees that shiver so,
With bare twigs naked every one
To these harsh winds that freeze the snow, --

It was a bitter place to die,
Poor birdie! Was it easier, then,
On such a world to shut thine eye,
And sleep away from life, than when

The apple-blossoms tint the air,
And, twittering in the sunny trees,
Thy fellow-songsters flit and pair,
Breasting the warm, caressing breeze?

Nay, it were easiest, I feel,
Though 't were a brighter Earth to lose,
To let the summer shadows steal
About thee, bringing their repose;

When the noon hush was on the air,
And on the flowers the warm sun shined,
And Earth seemed all so sweet and fair,
That He who made it must be kind.

So I, too, could not bear to go
From Life in this unfriendly clime,
To lie beneath the crusted snow,
When the dead grass stands stiff with rime;

But under those blue skies of home,
Far easier were it to lie down
Where the perpetual violets bloom
And the rich moss grows never brown;

Where linnets never cease to build
Their nests, in boughs that always wave
To odorous airs, with blessing filled
From nestled blossoms round my grave.





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