The Birds begun at Four o'clock

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1. Why Do Birds Sing? Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose? Is it the worship born in those Who are of Nature’s self a part, The adoration of the heart? Is it the mating mood […]...
2. Turns And Movies: Duval's Birds The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness, Circled three times above the upturned faces With a great whir of brilliant outspread wings, And then returned to stagger on her finger. She bowed and smiled, eliciting applause. . . The property man hated her dirty birds. But it had taken years-yes, years-to train them, To […]...
3. Three little birds in a row Three little birds in a row Sat musing. A man passed near that place. Then did the little birds nudge each other. They said, “He thinks he can sing.” They threw back their heads to laugh. With quaint countenances They regarded him. They were very curious, Those three little birds in a row....
4. The Wind begun to rock the Grass The Wind begun to rock the Grass With threatening Tunes and low He threw a Menace at the Earth A Menace at the Sky. The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees And started all abroad The Dust did scoop itself like Hands And threw away the Road. The Wagons quickened on the Streets The Thunder hurried […]...
5. Little Birds Little Birds are dining Warily and well, Hid in mossy cell: Hid, I say, by waiters Gorgeous in their gaiters – I’ve a Tale to tell. Little Birds are feeding Justices with jam, Rich in frizzled ham: Rich, I say, in oysters Haunting shady cloisters – That is what I am. Little Birds are teaching […]...
6. Have you got a Brook in your little heart Have you got a Brook in your little heart, Where bashful flowers blow, And blushing birds go down to drink, And shadows tremble so And nobody knows, so still it flows, That any brook is there, And yet your little draught of life Is daily drunken there Why, look out for the little brook in […]...
7. Mama never forgets her birds Mama never forgets her birds, Though in another tree She looks down just as often And just as tenderly As when her little mortal nest With cunning care she wove If either of her “sparrows fall,” She “notices,” above....
8. The White Birds I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea! We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee; And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky, Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness […]...
9. Cherries and birds cherries are so vulnerable Blinking their way from green To polished red in trees Guileless to stave off birds A murmur does its rounds And when the bright day comes And ripeness throws its coyness In the air a seething mesh Of wings and whetted beaks (knowing its cherry-right) Falls upon the fleshy fruit And […]...
10. After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside Nature imparts the little Blue-Bird assured Her conscientious Voice will soar unmoved Above ostensible Vicissitude. First at the March competing with the Wind Her panting note exalts us like a friend Last to adhere when Summer cleaves away Elegy of Integrity....
11. Birds of Prey Their shadow dims the sunshine of our day, As they go lumbering across the sky, Squawking in joy of feeling safe on high, Beating their heavy wings of owlish gray. They scare the singing birds of earth away As, greed-impelled, they circle threateningly, Watching the toilers with malignant eye, From their exclusive haven birds of […]...
12. Further in Summer than the Birds Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance be seen So gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest felt at Noon When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify Remit as yet no Grace No Furrow on […]...
13. Ended, ere it begun Ended, ere it begun The Title was scarcely told When the Preface perished from Consciousness The Story, unrevealed Had it been mine, to print! Had it been yours, to read! That it was not Our privilege The interdict of God...
14. These are the days when Birds come back These are the days when Birds come back A very few a Bird or two To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old old sophistries of June A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds […]...
15. The Birds reported from the South The Birds reported from the South A News express to Me A spicy Charge, My little Posts But I am deaf Today The Flowers appealed a timid Throng I reinforced the Door Go blossom for the Bees I said And trouble Me no More The Summer Grace, for Notice strove Remote Her best Array The […]...
16. What the Birds Said The birds against the April wind Flew northward, singing as they flew; They sang, “The land we leave behind Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew.” “O wild-birds, flying from the South, What saw and heard ye, gazing down?” “We saw the mortar’s upturned mouth, The sickened camp, the blazing town! “Beneath the bivouac’s starry […]...
17. Birds Of Passage Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms Of the shadowy elms A tide-like darkness overwhelm The fields that round us lie. But the night is fair, And everywhere A warm, soft vapor fills the air, And distant sounds seem near; And […]...
18. Birds Calling in the Ravine I’m idle, as osmanthus flowers fall, This quiet night in spring, the hill is empty. The moon comes out and startles the birds on the hill, They don’t stop calling in the spring ravine....
19. Sumach and Birds IF you never came with a pigeon rainbow purple Shining in the six o’clock September dusk: If the red sumach on the autumn roads Never danced on the flame of your eyelashes: If the red-haws never burst in a million Crimson fingertwists of your heartcrying: If all this beauty of yours never crushed me Then […]...
20. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
21. Looking Across The Fields And Watching The Birds Fly Among the more irritating minor ideas Of Mr. Homburg during his visits home To Concord, at the edge of things, was this: To think away the grass, the trees, the clouds, Not to transform them into other things, Is only what the sun does every day, Until we say to ourselves that there may be […]...
22. What Birds Plunge Through Is Not The Intimate Space What birds plunge through is not the intimate space, In which you see all Forms intensified. (In the Open, denied, you would lose yourself, Would disappear into that vastness.) Space reaches from us and translates Things: To become the very essence of a tree, Throw inner space around it, from that space That lives in […]...
23. The Sea said "Come" to the Brook The Sea said “Come” to the Brook The Brook said “Let me grow” The Sea said “Then you will be a Sea I want a Brook Come now”! The Sea said “Go” to the Sea The Sea said “I am he You cherished” “Learned Waters Wisdom is stale to Me”...
24. Idea LI: Calling to mind since first my love begun Calling to mind since first my love begun, Th’ incertain times oft varying in their course, How things still unexpectedly have run, As t’ please the fates by their resistless force: Lastly, mine eyes amazedly have seen Essex’ great fall, Tyrone his peace to gain, The quiet end of that long-living Queen, This King’s fair […]...
25. Autumn Birds The wild duck startles like a sudden thought, And heron slow as if it might be caught. The flopping crows on weary wings go by And grey beard jackdaws noising as they fly. The crowds of starnels whizz and hurry by, And darken like a clod the evening sky. The larks like thunder rise and […]...
26. The Black Birds I Once, only once, I saw it clear, That Eden every human heart has dreamed A hundred times, but always far away! Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, Through the still atmosphere Of that enchanted day, To lie wide open to my weary feet: A little land of love and joy and rest, […]...
27. As In Their Flight The Birds Of Song AS in their flight the birds of song Halt here and there in sweet and sunny dales, But halt not overlong; The time one rural song to sing They pause; then following bounteous gales Steer forward on the wing: Sun-servers they, from first to last, Upon the sun they wait To ride the sailing blast. […]...
28. Consulting summer's clock Consulting summer’s clock, But half the hours remain. I ascertain it with a shock I shall not look again. The second half of joy Is shorter than the first. The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest....
29. "Birds of Prey" March March! The mud is cakin’ good about our trousies. Front! eyes front, an’ watch the Colour-casin’s drip. Front! The faces of the women in the ‘ouses Ain’t the kind o’ things to take aboard the ship. Cheer! An’ we’ll never march to victory. Cheer! An’ we’ll never live to ‘ear the cannon roar! The Large […]...
30. St. Francis and the Birds Little sisters, the birds: We must praise God, you and I­ You, with songs that fill the sky, I, with halting words. All things tell His praise, Woods and waters thereof sing, Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring, And the night and days. Yea, and cold and heat, And the sun and stars and moon, Sea with […]...
31. Because my Brook is fluent Because my Brook is fluent I know ’tis dry Because my Brook is silent It is the Sea And startled at its rising I try to flee To where the Strong assure me Is “no more Sea”...
32. Going for Water The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not loth to have excuse to go, Because the autumn eve was fair (Though chill), because the fields were ours, And by the brook our woods […]...
33. The brook I looked in the brook and saw a face – Heigh-ho, but a child was I! There were rushes and willows in that place, And they clutched at the brook as the brook ran by; And the brook it ran its own sweet way, As a child doth run in heedless play, And as it […]...
34. Of Being is a Bird Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens upon It soars and shifts and whirls And measures with the Clouds In easy even dazzling pace No different the Birds Except a Wake of Music Accompany their feet As did the Down emit a Tune […]...
35. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
36. The spry Arms of the Wind The spry Arms of the Wind If I could crawl between I have an errand imminent To an adjoining Zone I should not care to stop My Process is not long The Wind could wait without the Gate Or stroll the Town among. To ascertain the House And is the soul at Home And hold […]...
37. The Loneliness One dare not sound The Loneliness One dare not sound And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny The Horror not to be surveyed But skirted in the Dark With Consciousness suspended And […]...
38. A something in a summer's Day A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon A depth an Azure a perfume Transcending ecstasy. And still within a summer’s night A something so transporting bright I clap my hands to see Then veil my too inspecting face Lets such a […]...
39. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
40. The Birds When Jesus Christ was four years old The angels brought Him toys of gold, Which no man ever had bought or sold. And yet with these He would not play. He made Him small fowl out of clay, And blessed them till they flew away: Tu creasti Domine Jesus Christ, Thou child so wise, Bless […]...