In the night wood between the nether glow Of the evening star and the lake, A whippoorwill cries his name Over and over again without shame, As if the utmost meaning of life were in it. The cool slender crescent of the moon, Ready to sink under the earth soon, Should hush him with its quiet mystery, Or the silent immortality of the stars should But, seeming to think it is the world's sole duty To hear whatever @3he@1 says of love and beauty, He cries on -- the passion in his breast Demanding to be heard without rest. Yet what he cries, loud and long and shrill, Is only -- "Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING SONG OF THE THOUGHTFUL CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD A POEM FROM THE EDGE OF AMERICA by JAMES GALVIN OMNIPRESENCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL |