O Ivory bird, that shakest thy wan plumes, And dost forget the sweetness of thy throat For a most strange and melancholy note— That wilt forsake the summer and the blooms And go to winter in a place remote! The country where thou goest, Ivory bird! It hath no pleasant nesting-place for thee; There are no skies nor flowers fair to see, Nor any shade at noon—as I have heard— But the black shadow of the Cypress tree. The Cypress tree, it groweth on a mound; And sickly are the flowers it hath of May, Full of a false and subtle spell are they; For whoso breathes the scent of them around, He shall not see the happy Summer day. In June, it bringeth forth, O Ivory bird! A winter berry, bitter as the sea; And whoso eateth of it, woe is he— He shall fall pale, and sleep—as I have heard— Long in the shadow of the Cypress tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING AMERICAN by SAM WALTER FOSS LONDON VOLUNTARIES: 3. SCHERZANDO by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY FESTOONS OF FISHES by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG THE SEARCH FOR LEAVEN by ALTER ABELSON INVITED GUESTS by FRANCES EKIN ALLISON |