To An Oriole Poem by Edgar Fawcett
To An Oriole
How falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly
In tropic splendor through our Northern sky?
At some glad moment was it nature's choice
To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?
Or did some orange tulip, flaked with black,
In some forgotten garden, ages back,
Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard,
Desire unspeakably to be a bird?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
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4/19/2024 7:53:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
