THE GOLDFINCH

Down from the sky on a sudden he drops

Into the mullein and juniper tops,

Flushed from his bath in the midsummer shine

Flooding the meadowland, drunk with the wine

Spilled from the urns of the blue, like a bold

Sky-buccaneer in his sable and gold.

Lightly he sways on the pendulous stem,

Vividly restless, a fluttering gem,

Then with a flash of bewildering wings

Dazzles away up and down, and he sings

Clear as a bell at each dip as he flies

Bounding along on the wave of the skies.

Sunlight and laughter, a winged desire,

Motion and melody married to fire,

Lighter than thistle-tuft borne on the wind,

Frailer than violets, how shall we find

Words that will match him, discover a name

Meet for this marvel, this lyrical flame?

How shall we fashion a rhythm to wing with him,

Find us a wonderful music to sing with him

Fine as his rapture is, free as the rollicking

Song that the harlequin drops in his frolicking

Dance through the summer sky, singing so merrily

High in the burning blue, winging so airily?