Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE WHIPPOORWILL, by ANNA MARIA WELLS



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TO THE WHIPPOORWILL, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: The shades of eve are gathering slowly round
Last Line: Hush, or thou'lt break my heart, sad whippoorwill!
Alternate Author Name(s): Wells, A. M.


THE shades of eve are gathering slowly round,
And silence hangs o'er meadow, grove, and hill,
Save one lone voice, that, with continuous sound,
Calls through the deep'ning twilight -- Whippoorwill.

Faintly is heard the whispering mountain breeze;
Faintly the rushing brook that turn'd the mill;
Hush'd is the song of birds -- the hum of bees; --
The hour is all thine own, sad Whippoorwill!

No more the woodman's axe is heard to fall;
No more the ploughman sings with rustic skill;
As if earth's echoes woke no other call,
Again, and yet again, comes Whippoorwill.

Alas! enough! before, my heart was sad;
Sweet bird! thou mak'st it sadder, sadder still.
Enough of mourning has my spirit had;
I would not hear thee mourn, poor Whippoorwill.

Thoughts of my distant home upon me press,
And thronging doubts, and fears of coming ill;
My lone heart feels a deeper loneliness,
Touch'd with that plaintive burthen -- Whippoorwill.

Sing to the village lass, whose happy home
Lies in yon quiet vale, behind the hill;
But, doom'd far, far from all I love to roam,
Sing not to me, oh gentle Whippoorwill.

Loved ones! my children! Ah, they cannot hear
My voice that calls to them! An answer shrill,
A shrill, unconscious answer, rises near,
Repeating, still repeating Whippoorwill!

Another name my lips would breathe; -- but then
Such tender memories all my bosom fill,
Back to my sorrowing breast it sinks again!
Hush, or thou'lt break my heart, sad Whippoorwill!





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