Poems (Carmichael)/The Wounded Bird

by Sarah Elizabeth Carmichael

For works with similar titles, see The Wounded Bird.

THE WOUNDED BIRD.

Never again in the wild-wood bowers  Will thy trembling notes be heard; Never again will the branches sway  Under thee, sweet little bird! The breath of the spring upheld thy wing,  And the summer drank thy strain; But the plumes that fluttered the blossoms then  Never will perch again.

Never again!—in the dear, old woods  The flowers will bloom and die, And many a shining pinion flit  Over the sun-bathed sky; And many a note on the soft winds float,  As pure in its melody As the frozen tones in thy fluttering heart— But never again for thee!

Never again!—there are crimson drops  Quivering on thy breast; Thy pulses curdle around the shaft  Under thy soft wing pressed. Ah! it is well, thou has breathed thy song— If its low, wild gush hath stirred One heart's deep waves, thou hast done thy part,  Beautiful, wounded bird!