O THOU sweet bird in the hazel tops, Piping high, piping low, piping clear! O thou sweet bird in the hazel tops, Pipe to me of my dear! Thou canst make love to her better than I, Thrush, O Thrush of my heart! Blending thy notes with the blue of the sky, While the cloudlets drift apart. Call to her now from the fields of thy grace, Name her by wood and stream! Tell her, I long to see her face Within the moonlight gleam. Tell her, sweet Thrush, of the grief that has lain For six long months at my breast, Tell her, sweet Thrush, of my endless pain— Of the burden of my unrest. And if, of her grace, she would pity give —Pity from her heart's core, Tell her, by that one word I'll live And love for evermore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ETUDES DE PLUSIERS PAYSAGES DE L' AME: 1 by HAYDEN CARRUTH MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH TO MY CLASS: ON CERTAIN FRUITS AND FLOWERS SENT ... SICKNESS by SIDNEY LANIER THE PAST IS THE PRESENT (2) by MARIANNE MOORE |