LITTLE papoose Swung high in the branches Hears a song of birds, stars, clouds, Small nests of birds, Small buds of flowers. But he is thinking of his mother with dark hair Like her horse's mane. Fair clouds nod to him Where he swings in the tree, But he is thinking of his father Dark and glistening and wonderful, Of his father with a voice like ice and velvet, And tones of falling water, Of his father who shouts Like a storm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE LAPLAND LONGSPUR by JOHN BURROUGHS LOVERS' INFINITENESS by JOHN DONNE TENEBRIS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE THE BLINDED BIRD by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: 9. TO THE RIVER LODON by THOMAS WARTON THE YOUNGER SONNET: GHOSTS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |