The Falcon

Elinor Morton Hoyt Wylie

 Next Poem          

Why should my sleepy heart be taught
To whistle mocking-bird replies?
This is another bird you've caught,
Soft-feathered, with a falcon's eyes.

The bird Imagination,
That flies so far, that dies so soon;
Her wings are coloured like the sun,
Her breast is coloured like the moon.

Weave her a chain of silver twist,
And a little hood of scarlet wool,
And let her perch upon your wrist,
And tell her she is beautiful.

Next Poem 

 Back to Elinor Morton Hoyt Wylie

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.