Low Tide on Grand Pré: A Book of Lyrics

by Bliss Carman

 

AT THE VOICE OF A BIRD

Consurgent ad vocem volucris.

 
CALL to me, thrush,
     When night grows dim,
When dreams unform
     And death is far!

When hoar dews flush
5
     On dawn’s rathe brim,
Wake me to hear
     Thy wildwood charm,

As a lone rush
     Astir in the slim
10
White stream where sheer
     Blue mornings are.

Stir the keen hush
     On twilight’s rim
When my own star
15
     Is white and clear.

Fly low to brush
     Mine eyelids grim,
Where sleep and storm
     Will set their bar;
20
For God shall crush
     Spring balm for him,
Stark on his bier
     Past fault or harm,

Who once, as flush
25
     Of day might skim
The dusk, afar
     In sleep shall hear

Thy song’s cool rush
     With joy rebrim
30
The world, and calm
     The deep with cheer.

Then, Heartsease, hush!
     If sense grow dim,
Desire shall steer
35
     Us home from far.