Not how many different birds I've seen but how many have seen me, letting the event go unremarked except for the quietest sense of malevolence, dead quiet, then restarting their lives after fear, not with song, which is reserved for lovers, but the harsh and quizzical chatter with which we all get by: but if she or he passes by and the need is felt we hear the music that transcends all fear, and sometimes the simpler songs that greet sunrise, rain or twilight. Here I am. They sing what and where they are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INDIAN SUMMER by SARA TEASDALE THE IRISH RAPPAREES; A PEASANT BALLAD OF 1691 by CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY A CHRISTMAS FOLKSONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN A NOVEL OF HIGH LIFE by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY THE EMIGRANT LASSIE by JOHN STUART BLACKIE |