[I am but a small-winged bird]
I am but a small-winged bird: But I will conquer the big world As the bee-martin beats the crow, By attacking it always from Above.
This poem is in the public domain.
My Desire is round, It is a great globe. If my desire were no bigger than this world It were no bigger than a pin’s head. But this world is to the world I want As a cinder to Sirius.
The feverish heaven with a stitch in the side, Of lightning.
Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs,-- Emerald twilights,-- Virginal shy lights, Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows, When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods, Of the heavenly woods and glades, That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within The wide sea-marshes of Glynn;-- Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fi