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The Bluebird

Alexander Posey

1873 –

1908

A winged bit of Indian sky
Strayed hither from its home on high.

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on November 12, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.

Alexander Lawrence Posey, born August 3, 1873, was a Muskogee Creek poet, journalist, and humorist known for his poems and Fus Fixico letters.

About Alexander Posey

Themes

About this Poem

“The Bluebird” first appeared in Song of the Oktahutche: Collected Poems (University of Nebraska Press, 2008), a comprehensive anthology of the poetry of Alexander Posey. Unpublished at the time of Posey’s death, the poem was discovered in a manuscript collection of his work housed at the Thomas Gilcrease Institute of American History and Art in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In the introduction to the anthology, Matthew Wynn Sivils, Dean’s Professor in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at Iowa State University, writes, “[Alexander Posey’s] nature poems―especially those devoted to birds and the ubiquitous Oktahutche―repeatedly manage to call forth inventive lines and singing language that collectively represent a love letter written to the natural world as one would find it within the Muscogee nation. For example, Posey’s very brief poem ‘The Bluebird’ works precisely because of its brevity: its straightforward yet striking image and simple delivery portray an Indian Territory sky found only in Posey’s literary world. [. . .] The best of Posey’s nature poetry becomes a sort of Indian Territory pastoral that ranks with the best verse of that time.”

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More by this poet

To Wahilla Enhotulle

^{(To the South Wind)}

O Wind, hast thou a sigh
Robbed from her lips divine
Upon this sunbright day—
A token or a sign?

Oh, take me, Wind, into
Thy confidence, and tell
Me, whispering soft and low,
The secrets of the dell.

Oh, teach me what it is
The meadow flowers say
As to and fro they nod
Thro’ all the golden day.

Oh, hear, Wind of the South,
And whispering softer yet,
Unfold the story of
The lone pine tree’s regret.

Alexander Posey

1910

Song of the Oktahutche

Far, far, far are my silver waters drawn;
       The hills embrace me loth to let me go;
The maidens think me fair to look upon,
       And trees lean over glad to hear me flow.
Thro’ field and valley, green because of me,
       I wander, wander to the distant sea.

Alexander Posey

1900

Seashells

I picked up shells with ruby lips
That spoke in whispers of the sea,
Upon a time, and watched the ships,
On white wings, sail away to sea.

The ships I saw go out that day
Live misty—dim in memory;
But still I hear, from far away,
The blue waves breaking ceaselessly.

Alexander Posey

2021

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The Bluebird

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