SWIFTLY through the forest brake Piping birds their journeys take; Comes a jangle of bird-speech From the pine-boughs' utmost reach, -- Here a rueful miserere, There a twitter glib and cheery; These in prelude, those abating, Or a descant meditating; Shrilling others, open-throated; Till the mountain-walls without Find a voice to sing and shout, And lone Echo where she dwells Flings a chatter, backward-floated, To the music of the dells. On brisk wing, with murmur low, Ground-bees traffic to and fro, Born to toil, a snub-faced brood, Summer's faithful harvesters. Moulded cells of earth are theirs, Theirs an austere sisterhood: Harmless creatures, strange to hiving, That no carnal love ensue, But in wells of nectar diving Draw delicious honey-dew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FISH-LEAP FALL by ROBERT FROST ABOVE AND WITHIN by DAVID IGNATOW BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW SHALL I SAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BACCALAUREATE by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH |