Rest on the lower bough, Whose wings are frail, Nor seek the riotous tops Lashed by the gale. Let not ambition tempt To flutter where The eagle's iron wing May scarcely dare. All native to the sward And leafy shade, Thy slender treble fills The quiet glade. But in the upper gale Thy little sound Were like a rose-leaf reft And blown around, Or in the solitude Of height on height, The flickering of a spark Within the light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL CHARLOTTE CORDAY (REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, JULY 17, 1793) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS RICHARD BOOTH TO HIS SON JUNIUS BRUTUS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DON JUAN'S SONG by ISAAC ROSENBERG WINDFLOWER LEAF by CARL SANDBURG |