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Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter


An Irish Blackbird


This is my brave singer,
   With his beak of gold;
Now my hearts a captive
   In his songs sweet hold.

O, the larks a rover,
   Seeking fields above:
But my serenader
   Hath a human love.

Hark! he says, in winter
   Nests are full of snow,
But a truce to wailing
   Summer breezes blow.

Hush! he sings, with night-time
   Phantoms cease to be,
Join your serenader
   Piping on his tree.

O, my little lover,
   Warble in the blue;
Wingless must I envy
   Skies so wide for you.



Dora Sigerson Shorter


Dora Sigerson Shorter's other poems:
  1. The Kine of My Father
  2. An Imperfect Revolution
  3. You Will Not Come Again
  4. Sixteen Dead Men
  5. The Fairy Changeling


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