In yon sunlit meadow, hark
To the singing of the lark
And the quail in coverts near
To each other calling clear
Voice of some lone robin floats
From an oak, and hoarser note
Of the blackbirds settling nigh.
Bluejays call, as past they fly
And their strident voices fall
In a blending musical
With the sweet tones of the thrush
And the bluebird in yon bush
In the woods a brooklet sings,
And the wistful whisperings
Of the wind amid the trees,
Blend with songs of birds and bees
And the streamlet's melody,
In a perfect harmony.
This is such a cheery little nature ode that it's almost out sync with other early poems by CAS that I have been reading recently. I suspect this one may be a very early item in CAS' poetic oeuvre, since it has a whiff of juvenilia about it. One almost feels the very young CAS trying out his hand at the poetic form, with less of his personal voice making it through the exercise.
No comments:
Post a Comment