On Hearing A Bird Sing At Night

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Title:     On Hearing A Bird Sing At Night
Author: David Morton [More Titles by Morton]

Out of what ancient summer of soft airs
Was spun this song that stills each listening leaf--
This silver, moon-bright minstreling that fares
Through all old time, still laden with a grief?
Some hidden bird, by turrets and black bars,
Where one had languished for her face was fair,
Heard thus some troubadour beneath the stars,
And learned this song of vanished hands and hair.

Who knows what golden story first gave birth
To this old music that is heavy-sweet
With gardens long forgotten of the earth,
With passion that was silver wings and feet,
To cross the silent centuries and be heard,
Calling again in this dream-troubled bird!

[The end]
David Morton's poem: On Hearing A Bird Sing At Night

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