| Poems by Women |
Yellow Warblers
The first faint dawn was flushing up the skies
When,
dreamland still bewildering mine eyes,
I looked out to the oak that,
winter-long,
-- a winter wild with war and woe and wrong --
Beyond my
casement had been void of song.
And lo! with golden buds the twigs were set,
Live buds that warbled like a
rivulet
Beneath a veil of willows. Then I knew
Those tiny voices,
clear as drops of dew,
Those flying daffodils that fleck the blue,
Those sparkling visitants from myrtle isles,
Wee pilgrims of the sun, that
measure miles
Innumerable over land and sea
With wings of shining
inches. Flakes of glee,
They filled that dark old oak with jubilee,
Foretelling in delicious roundelays
Their dainty courtships on the dipping
sprays,
How they should fashion nests, mate helping mate,
Of milkweed flax
and fern-down delicate
To keep sky-tinted eggs inviolate.
Listening to those blithe notes, I slipped once more
From lyric dawn
through dreamland's open door,
And there was God, Eternal Life that
sings,
Eternal joy, brooding all mortal things,
A nest of stars, beneath
untroubled wings.
From: Rittenhouse, Jessie B.
The Second Book of Modern Verse (1919).
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
