O BIRD with heart of wassail, That toss the Bacchic branch, And slip your shaken music, An elfin avalanche; Come tell me, O tell me, My poet of the blue! What's @3your@1 thought of me, Sweet? -- Here's @3my@1 thought of you. A small thing, a wee thing, A brown fleck of naught; With winging and singing That who could have thought? A small thing, a wee thing, A brown amaze withal, That fly a pitch more azure Because you're so small. Bird, I'm a small thing -- My angel descries; With winging and singing That who could surmise? Ah, small things, ah, wee things, Are the poets all, Whose tour's the more azure Because they're so small. The angels hang watching The tiny men-things: -- 'The dear speck of flesh, see, With such daring wings! 'Come, tell us, O tell us, Thou strange mortality! What's @3thy@1 thought of us, Dear? -- Here's @3our@1 thought of thee.' 'Alack! you tall angels, I can't think so high! I can't think what it feels like Not to be I.' Come tell me, O tell me, My poet of the blue! What's @3your@1 thought of me, Sweet? -- Here's @3my@1 thought of you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW SHALL I SAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WE FACE THE FUTURE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 8 by JAMES JOYCE EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR |