O varied thrush! O robin strange! Behold my mute surprise. Thy form and flight I long have known, But not this new disguise. I do not know thy slaty coat, Thy vest with darker zone; I'm puzzled by thy recluse ways And song in monotone. I left thee 'mid my orchard's bloom, When May had crowned the year; Thy nest was on the apple-bough, Where rose thy carol clear. Thou lurest now through fragrant shades, Where hoary spruces grow; Where floor of moss infolds the foot, Like depths of fallen snow. I follow fast, or pause alert, To spy out thy retreat; Or see thee perched on tree or shrub, Where field and forest meet. Thy voice is like a hermit's reed That solitude beguiles; Again 'tis is like a silver bell Atune in forest aisles. Throw off, throw off this masquerade And don thy ruddy vest, And let me find thee, as of old, Beside thy orchard nest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GLAMOUR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PAULINE BARRETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE BOHEMIAN HYMN by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK by EMMA LAZARUS ADAM'S CURSE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS GRANDSER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN |