03 February 2014

Whippoorwill Poem

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!"
July 26, 1884. Whippoorwill. Washington D.C. Bee 3(8): 1. From the Current.