As I was faring home The slow hill-climbing way A lonely bird sang once And seemed to bid me stay. I paused to rest and turned, And if I had not turned, I had not seen the west Behind me, how it burned. So when he sang again As I resumed the slope, My heart regarded him -- I turned again with hope. The sunset! -- and beneath The valley ebon dark And featureless, wherein A lamp was but a spark. But that he would not cease, But still would call and call When I must go was proof The sunset was not all. I left him to the waste And gathering stars above, In doubt if I could know What thing a bird would love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY A CALL TO ARMS by MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS MOON RIDER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE CELESTIAL COUNTRY by BERNARD OF CLUNY THREE LULLABIES by FRED EMERSON BROOKS WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF HIS POEMS by ROBERT BURNS THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: TO SIR THOMAS MOUNSON, KNIGHT AND BARONET by THOMAS CAMPION |