Moonlight Song OF THE MOCKING-BIRD
EACH golden note of music greets
The listening leaves, divinely stirred,
As if the vanished soul of Keats
Had found its new birth in a bird.
NIGHT MISTS
SOMETIMES, when Nature falls asleep,
Around her...
Out of the mighty Yule log came
The crooning of the lithe wood-flame,—
A single bar of music fraught
With cheerful yet half pensive thought,—
A thought elusive: out of reach,
Yet trembling on the verge of speech.
Just ere the darkness is withdrawn,
In seasons of cold or heat,
Close to the boundary line of Dawn
These mystical brothers meet.
They clasp their weird and shadowy hands,
As they listen each to each,
But never a mortal understands...
A throat of thunder, a tameless heart,
And a passion malign and free,
He is no sheik of the desert sand.
But an Arab of the sea!
He sprang from the womb of some wild cloud,
And was born to smite and slay:
To soar like a million hawks set...
Moonlight song OF THE MOCKING-BIRD
EACH golden note of music greets
The listening leaves, divinely stirred,
As if the vanished soul of Keats
Had found its new birth in a bird.
NIGHT MISTS
SOMETIMES, when Nature falls asleep,
Around her...
Thy one white leaf is open to the sky,
And o’er thy heart swift lights and shadows pass,—
The wooing winds seem loath to wander by,
Jealous of sunshine and the summer grass.
Thy sylvan loveliness is pure and strong,
For thou art bright and yet not...
I see a tiny fluttering form
Beneath the soft snow’s soundless storm,
’Mid a strange noonlight palely shed
Through mocking cloud-rifts overhead.
All other birds are far from sight,—
They think the day has turned to night;
But he is cast in...
