I WONDER if the hawk knew Morning was different? He stood so long below the sun With the blue reins of the horizon In his beak. There was a vireo Hid in the hair of the mountain-side. I can recall his tuneless warble Because it wrote itself on oak-leaves Encrusted with gold of noon. Always I see its monotony Shining, Curved like words of water Over a bright ledge. . . . Afternoon tossed a storm over the mountain, Lost it in the valley. A chickadee hung by one claw Defying the probable . . . What was there in the day Made us so still? The mountain held us under clouds like sails. There was spray on the wind . . . spray on the inland wind. . . Or was it fire? Did you feel the heave of the earth, did you see flame Along the wind at sundown? Did you remember strangeness We had lived before? Oh love, my love, Now at last with you I can wonder: Now with you I can dream. Now wild earth flying Pours me mist of suns And darkness golden! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ENGLAND'S DEAD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS TO MR. GAY, WHO WROTE HIM A CONGRATULATORY LETTER ON FINISHING HOUSE by ALEXANDER POPE MIRANDA'S SUPPER (VIRGINIA, 1866) by ELINOR WYLIE ON A LETTER: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND THE STUDY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN FO'C'S'LE YARNS: 1ST SERIES. SPIES ALTERA; TO THE FUTURE MANX POET by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |