Bogan gives a stark portrait of an older woman who cannot fully let go of love. She knows desire should die with age, yet she still turns toward it—and each time she hears the crows’ harsh cry. Those birds seem to be the voice of reality or mortality, reminding her that love now comes with loss. The comparison to a hardened stem, a weed no scythe mows, suggests she endures, but not softly. Even if her heart could laugh again, the sound would be, for her, the crying of crows. The final stanza makes the mood colder: the crows call over yielding and barren fields alike, in spring and in bitter winter. They are indifferent to human hope. The poem feels bleak, wintry, and quietly unflinching about aging and desire.
The Crows — Summary
The woman who has grown old And knows desire must die, Yet turns to love again, Hears the crows' cry.
She is a stem long hardened, A weed that no scythe mows. The heart's laughter will be to her The crying of the crows.
Who slide in the air with the same voice Over what yields not, and what yields, Alike in spring, and when there is only bitter Winter-burning in the fields.