Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO A MOCKING-BIRD IN THE PINE-TOP, by JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE Poet's Biography First Line: Bird of the south-sweet songster! Last Line: Shall live for immortality. Subject(s): Birds; Happiness; Music & Musicians; Singing & Singers; Joy; Delight | ||||||||
BIRD of the Southsweet songster! Brighter than the evening star That beams above thy perch afar Thy song pours out, its every bar Music'd with melody. Singing in the pine-top green, Of all the feathered tribe the queen A rising, falling, rippling sheen Of flowing harmony. Lute of the Southour Southland! Pouring from thine em'rald throne On the pine tree's topmost cone Notes by mortals never known, Of sweet simplicity. What sunbeams made that twinkling trill? What zephyr tuned that throat, until Its life and breath and spirit fill Thy soul of poesy? Mimic of the Southsly warbler, Hast thou caught the firefly's glow In the sparkle of thy flow, Or gathered from the sunset's bow Thy shafts of rhapsody? Magnolia blossoms in the breeze Art thou singing now of these While filling Heaven's purpling frieze With incense musical? In that calm note, soft and low, Dost thou see the bayou's flow Bespangled with the stars that grow From water lilies? Or up the green decked, wooded hill Where speeds the brook to water mill, Is that jingling note its trill Down ravine rushing? Deeper, sweeter flows the stream All merry mad with glide and gleam Until the very woodlands seem To reel with euphony. Softly sweet, 'neath paling dome, Thou singest now of that true home, Where we shall weep no more, nor roam, But rest forever. Listening to the revery note From thy moonlit perch, there float Tales of other days remote, Mem'ries of chivalry. Tales that tell of times a-gone The cotton's banner 'mid the corn Of Charity that's ever born 'Mid peace and plenty. Changing now to deeper tone Comes a war-note from thy throne, And sweetness for a season's flown For martial measures. Short and quick with bugle thrill The war-drum echoes in thy trill The fife's fierce scream and trumpet fill Thy clarion melody. Silentlya march in Saul Thou changest now to fun'ral pall; Thou mournest now for those who fall Wearing the gray. Ay, weep; for in the rush of wrong That followed with the alien throng, Thy people needed every song Thy heart could give. Hark! another note we hear, 'Tis the plowboy's whistle clear, As morning finds him with his gear, To yoke prosperity. Then, as up the sunshine gleams Our night of dread melts into dreams Of harvest fields and peaceful streams And barns of plenty. Bird of the Southdear songster, Sing in the pine-top, ever sing, Cause all the southern air to ring, Music and evergreens o'er us fling And teach the religion of harmony. Sing in the pine-top, in that tree, The emblem of eternity Sing till thy people, hearing thee, Shall live for immortality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STUDY OF HAPPINESS by KENNETH KOCH SO MUCH HAPPINESS by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE CROWD CONDITIONS by JOHN ASHBERY I WILL NOT BE CLAIMED by MARVIN BELL THE BOOK OF THE DEAD MAN (#21): 1. ABOUT THE DEAD MAN'S HAPPINESS by MARVIN BELL A HARVEST SONG by JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE A MEMORIAL DAY POEM FOR THE CONFEDERACY by JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE |
|