Poetry Archives

Unheard in summer’s flaring ray,
   Pour forth thy notes, sweet singer,
Wooing the stillness of the autumn day:
   Bid it a moment linger,
      Nor fly
Too soon from winter’s scowling eye.

The blackbird’s song at even-tide,
   And hers, who gay ascends,
Filling the heavens far and wide,
   Are sweet.  But none so blends,
      As thine,
With calm decay, and peace divine.