To a Mocking-Bird

I was asleep, dreaming that I could see The north hills bowed and burdened with the snow, And the grey-bearded river old and slow, And the sick silences on vine and tree — When in upon my loneliness and me Light rushed, and sweetness tumbled down as though Windows had opened for white hands to throw Roses and roses from a balcony.

Oh Bird, imperious for happiness, For moments gold as arrows in the air, I am the only dark in all daybreak! Let loose your avalanche of loveliness Over my heart, until I am aware How long I sleep — and sing me wide awake !