As I was faring home The slow hill-climbing way A lonely bird sang once And seemed to bid me stay. I paused to rest and turned, And if I had not turned, I had not seen the west Behind me, how it burned. So when he sang again As I resumed the slope, My heart regarded him -- I turned again with hope. The sunset! -- and beneath The valley ebon dark And featureless, wherein A lamp was but a spark. But that he would not cease, But still would call and call When I must go was proof The sunset was not all. I left him to the waste And gathering stars above, In doubt if I could know What thing a bird would love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST SPRING BLIZZARD by JAMES GALVIN THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MANY SOLDIERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SIXTEEN MONTHS by CARL SANDBURG |