- When over farm and field are thrown,
- The twilight's mantled shades,
- When silence brooding sits along
- Among the forest glades,
- Like some lone spirit's misty calls
- Along the dusk an echo falls
- Of "Whippoorwill, poorwill, poorwill!"
- That floats o'er forest, field and hill
- "Whippoorwill, poorwill!"
- The silent stars like sentries seem
- To watch the world below,
- And deeper over wood and stream
- The dusky shadows grow,
- And on the night-winds, drifting by
- There comes a weird and mournful cry
- of "Whippoorwill, poorwill, poorwill!"
- And through the dusk the echoes thrill
- "Whippoorwill, poorwill!"
History and Legacy of Wild Birds Including Historic Ornithology and Other Topics of Interest
03 February 2014
Whippoorwill Poem
Labels:
poetry