Poem by Sidney Lanier

The Mocking Bird

    SUPERB and sole, upon a plumed spray 
        That o'er the general leafage boldly grew, 
        He summ'd the woods in song; or typic drew 
    The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay 
    Of languid doves when long their lovers stray, 
        And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew 
        At morn in brake or bosky avenue. 
    Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say. 
    Then down he shot, bounced airily along 
    The sward, twitched-in a grasshopper, made song 
        Midflight, perched, primped, and to his art again. 
        Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain: 
            How may the death of that dull insect be 
            The life of yon trim Shakspere on the tree? 

1. Laus Mariae
2. My Springs
3. On Huntingdon’s "Miranda"
4. Resurrection
5. Nine from Eight

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