I HERE'S the mould of a musical bird long passed from light, Which over the earth before man came was winging; There's a contralto voice I heard last night, That lodges in me still with its sweet singing. II Such a dream is Time that the coo of this ancient bird Has perished not, but is blent, or will be blending Mid visionless wilds of space with the voice that I heard, In the full-fugued song of the universe unending. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES ON LEAVING THE BEDFORD STR. SCHOOL HOUSE by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE OWL AND THE PUSSY CAT by EDWARD LEAR ON A BEAUTIFUL DAY by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) MAY MORNING by CELIA LEIGHTON THAXTER THE LIVING BOOK by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES THE KING OF NORMANDY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |