Solitary wayfarer! Minstrel winged of the green wild! What dost thou delaying here, Like a wood-bewildered child Weeping to his far-flown troop, Whoop! and plaintive whoop! and whoop! Now from rock and now from tree, Bird! methinks thou whoop'st to me, Flitting before me upward still With clear warble, as I've heard Oft on my native Northern hill No less wild and lone a bird, Luring me with his sweet chee-chee Up the mountain crags which he Tript as lightly as a bee, O'er steep pastures, far among Thickets and briary lanes along, Following still a fleeting song! If such my errant nature, I Vainly to curb or coop it try Now that the sundrop through my frame Kindles another soul of flame! Whoop on, whoop on, thou canst not wing Too fast or far, thou well-named thing, Hoopoe, if of that tribe which sing Articulate in the desert ring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PETRIFIED FERN by MARY LYDIA BOLLES BRANCH FAREWELL TO MALTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE STARLIGHT NIGHT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS IMPROMPTU TO LADY WINCHILSEA by ALEXANDER POPE ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNET (3) by JOACHIM DU BELLAY |