THE GOLDFINCH
Down from the sky on a sudden he drops
Into the mullein and juniper tops,
Flushed from his bath in the midsummer shine
Flooding the meadowland, drunk with the wine
Spilled from the urns of the blue, like a bold
Sky-buccaneer in his sable and gold.
Lightly he sways on the pendulous stem,
Vividly restless, a fluttering gem,
Then with a flash of bewildering wings
Dazzles away up and down, and he sings
Clear as a bell at each dip as he flies
Bounding along on the wave of the skies.
Sunlight and laughter, a wingèd desire,
Motion and melody married to fire,
Lighter than thistle-tuft borne on the wind,
Frailer than violets, how shall we find
Words that will match him, discover a name
Meet for this marvel, this lyrical flame?
How shall we fashion a rhythm to wing with him,
Find us a wonderful music to sing with him
Fine as his rapture is, free as the rollicking
Song that the harlequin drops in his frolicking
Dance through the summer sky, singing so merrily
High in the burning blue, winging so airily?
Odell Shepard
KINFOLK
O, we are Kinfolk, she and I,—
The little mother-bird all brown,
Who broods above her nest on high,
And with her soft, bright eyes looks down
To read the secret of my heart,—
We two from all the world apart!
She dreams there in her swaying nest;
I dream here 'neath my sheltering vine.
The same love stirs her feathered breast
That makes my heart-throb seem divine.
We both dream 'neath the same kind sky,—
The small brown mother-bird, and I.