AN ARROW, feathery, alive, He darts and sings,— Then with a sudden skimming dive Of striped wings He finds a pine and, debonair, Makes with his mate All birds that ever rested there Articulate. The whisper of a multitude Of happy wings Is round him, a returning brood, Each time he sings. Though heaven be not for them or him Yet he is wise, And daily tiptoes on the rim Of paradise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TRAGIC STORY by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO VOLUNTARIES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET by JOHN KEATS WHEN THE COWS COME HOME by AGNES E. MITCHELL FIDELIS by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT TO JOANNA, ON SENDING ME THE LEAF OF A FLOWER ... WORDSWORTH'S GARDEN by BERNARD BARTON |