Poetry
The Silent Time
SINGING of birds is over : the curlew only
Out by the bog-pools bids his mate to beware. Long sweet whistles under the rushes lonely Set to listen the dew-wet ears of a hare.
Ears and eyes that look backward : only the plover Pipes and is silent ; the singing of birds is done. Over the marriage-song and the song of a lover, Lullabies sung to the babies feathered and flown.
- - The wood-dove, hidden in leafage, mourning for ever Because her children are Two, only Two, only Two, And the wren and the robin have Nine and Ten in the quiver. What will she do, the soft wood-dove ? What will she do ?
The curlew calls low calls ; his irate will listen.
The wood-dove mourns and mourns, is never still. The hare hears, the dew on his ears a-glisten, He thinks it a whistling boy coming over the hill.
KATHARINE Timex,
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