FACING a ragged cobalt sky, A bird is shaping silver sound; Working each fragile, flawless cry Into significance profound. Dawn with her mist-blue veils should bring An ecstacy to any breast, But this strange warbler does not sing Inspired by a brood at rest. @3Her song has beauty as this place, Stardrift in spring is not more fair; Austere each note as a strong face Measured in fire, curved with despair.@1 A trembling horn of pearly cloud Locks with another near, now far. . . @3The song is like a restless shroud Pulling itself up to a star.@1 Facing a ragged cobalt sky I hear the wind go joyously But in my blood I know the cry. . . The bird! . . . the silver agony! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: STATE'S ATTORNEY FALLAS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE LOVER IN HELL by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW SELF-ANALYSIS by DAVID IGNATOW JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER |