Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OUR NATIVE BIRDS, by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE First Line: Alone I sit at eventide Last Line: It is the rhyme that fails! Variant Title(s): Larks And Nightingales Subject(s): Birds | ||||||||
ALONE I sit at eventide: The twilight glory pales, And o'er the meadows far and wide Chant pensive bobolinks. (One might say nightingales!) Song-sparrows warble on the tree, I hear the purling brook, And from the old "manse o'er the lea" Flies slow the cawing crow. (In England 'twere a rook!) The last faint golden beams of day Still glow on cottage panes, And on their lingering homeward way Walk weary laboring men. (Oh, would that we had swains!) From farm-yards, down fair rural glades Come sounds of tinkling bells, And songs of merry brown milkmaids, Sweeter than oriole's. (Yes, thank you -- Philomel's!) I could sit here till morning came, All through the night hours dark, Until I saw the sun's bright flame And heard the chickadee. (Alas we have no lark!) We have no leas, no larks, no rooks, No swains, no nightingales, No singing milkmaids (save in books): The poet does his best -- It is the rhyme that fails! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GLIMPSES OF THE BIRDS by JOHN HOLLANDER GLIMPSES OF THE BIRDS by JOHN HOLLANDER AUDUBON EXAMINES A BITTERN by ANDREW HUDGINS DISPATCHES FROM DEVEREUX SLOUGH by MARK JARMAN A COUNTRY LIFE by RANDALL JARRELL CANADIAN WARBLER by GALWAY KINNELL YELLOW BIRD by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE CRIPPLE by KARLE WILSON BAKER A RUSSIAN FANTASY by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE APOSTROPHE TO JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH (PRESTISSIMO) by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE |
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