MY bird who may not lift his wing, Nor stir in his cold nest, Who never more may dare to sing, Who sits with frozen breast, My bird who in the wood alone Is turned to stone. How shall he find the seas of light That flood the leafy ways, Or watch the shadow's trembling flight That neither goes nor stays, How seek his dreaming mate who keeps The pearly deeps. How shall he learn the liquid notes That break the passionate air, Or hear the melody that floats From love sung unaware, My bird who may not raise his head -- Who now is dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS by ROBERT BURNS BALLAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE FISH, THE MAN, AND THE SPIRIT (COMPLETE) by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT FOR A DEAD LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |