 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
SONG
A bird upon a rosy bough
Sang low and long, sang late and loud,
Until the young moon's silver prow
Was lost behind a bar of cloud.
Sang low and long, sang late and loud,
Until the young moon's silver prow
Was lost behind a bar of cloud.
The south wind paused and held its breath—
Sing loud and late, sing low and long—
While sweet as Love and sad as Death
The matchless notes rose wild and strong.
Sing loud and late, sing low and long—
While sweet as Love and sad as Death
The matchless notes rose wild and strong.
They rang with rapture, loss and change,—
Sing low and late, sing long and loud—
A tumult passionate and strange,
A speechless grief, a patience proud;
Sing low and late, sing long and loud—
A tumult passionate and strange,
A speechless grief, a patience proud;
Till with “farewell for evermore,”—
Sing late and loud, sing low and long,—
Like waves that kiss a barren shore
In sobbing cadence died the song.
Sing late and loud, sing low and long,—
Like waves that kiss a barren shore
In sobbing cadence died the song.
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |