O bird that seem'st in solitude O'er tearful memories to brood, What sorrow hast thou known? Or is thy voice an oracle Interpreting the souls that tell No vision of their own? Thy life, alas! is loneliness Wherein, with shadowy caress, Soft preludings of pain Tell that some captive of the heart Is preening, ready to depart, And ne'er to come again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COTTON CLUB by CLARENCE MAJOR CHILD MARGARET by CARL SANDBURG IN THE MILE END ROAD by AMY LEVY NIGHT BY THE RIVER by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II THE CHILD AN' THE MOWERS by WILLIAM BARNES THE MODERN VERSION (TO A LUCY STONER) by BERTON BRALEY THE MUD-FISH, BY AN INDIGNANT TORY FOOTMAN by CHARLES WILLIAM SHIRLEY BROOKS |