WHILE I sit penning plans of dead affairs, And hardly pause but when some wilder gust Drives the mist shower with a more savage thrust Against my window, hark! what sweeter cares Find a shy voice, that makes my writing cease, And in this room of shelves, and books, and files, The ranked and crested past, what pleasure smiles! The dead withdraw, the living shares their peace. For down my chimney with the dripping rain Come tiny trills and chirps and silvery notes Like whistling mice; it's nesting-time again; There in the dimness gape what eager throats Of the new brood, who through this tempest dun Know they are for the singing and the sun! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ITALIAN PICTURES: COSTA MAGIC by MINA LOY A BANJO SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AN ARCTIC VISION [JUNE 20, 1867] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE SCURVY ENTERTAINMENT by ABU ABD ALLAH ZEUS TOO IS A VICTIM by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS SKYFARER by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD POLYHYMNIA: THE YOUTH IN THE BOAT (FRAGMENT) by WILLIAM BASSE FORMALITY AND THE SOUL: 2. JAMES MACNEIL WHISTLER by KARL W. BIGELOW |