Never Again Would Birds’ Song Be the Same
He would declare and could himself believe
That the birds there in all the garden round
From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
Had added to their own an oversound,
Her tone of meaning but without the words.
Admittedly an eloquence so soft
Could only have had an influence on birds
When call or laughter carried it aloft.
Be that as may be, she was in their song.
Moreover her voice upon their voices crossed
Had now persisted in the woods so long
That probably it never would be lost.
Never again would birds' song be the same.
And to do that to birds was why she came.
- Robert Frost
Yesterday felt like spring around here: 70 degrees, sunny, with plenty of chirping and soaring in the air as well.
I recalled this old favorite of mine. May it herald longer, warmer days for all and an abundance of varied, new winged ones this season.
Which poems did this week conjure up in your life? Share them here or link to your own poem-in-your-post...
MFB,
L
1 comment:
WATER - HEIICHI SUGIYAMA
I tilt
bucket-shaped water and
toss it out all at once:
for a moment it floats in the air in the shape of a rhombus
smashes against concrete
flattens screaming
extends feelers as if begging for help
struggles a little
then silently expires
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