Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A DEAD SINGER, by JOHN EDWARD LOGAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A DEAD SINGER, by                    
First Line: Fair little spirit of the woodland mazes
Last Line: Of unbegotten rest.
Alternate Author Name(s): Dane, Barry
Subject(s): Birds


FAIR little spirit of the woodland mazes, Thou liest sadly low,
No more the purple vetch and star-eyed daisies
Thy mating hymn shall know.

No more the harebell by the silent river Shall bend her dainty ear,
When nigh thou fliest, and her petals quiver
With maiden joy to hear.

No more to flit among the yellow mustard, Imperial thistle tops,
And intertwining woodbine, thickly clustered
With tendrils of wild hops.

No more the dragon's darting course to follow
O'er golden, sunlit sheaves;
No more to catch, within the shady hollow,
The dew from spangled leaves.

No more above the scented rose to hover, Sipping its fragrant fee;
No more to chase, across the billowy clover, The velvet-coated bee.

What fatal stroke has torn the downy tinc-ture,
Round thy once tuneful throat
And pulseless bosom, where a deathly tinc-ture
Dyes thy soft feathery coat?

No gentle mate and thou shalt wing together,
With tender chicks, your way,
To sunnier southern fields, when autumn weather
Chills the short northern day.

Dead is the soul of love and song and laughter,
That thrilled thy fragile breast, --
There is no more for thee, but dead hereafter
Of unbegotten rest.





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