THERE is no sky now for the slender song
Remembering old lost and lovely things.
All tenderness is out of tune and wrong
Under the cloud that hides a falcon’s wings.
Here, I shall hold the plover in my hand,
Feeling the rapid heart, the swollen throat.
No one will miss it or could understand
Above the clamor such an alien note.
Cover the nest. Where early wheat has grown
Cowers the speckled body of a bird.
Peace is the only song that it has known;
Love is the only answer it has heard.
Rather be held in silence till it die
Than singing in this unfamiliar sky.