Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
To a Golden-Crowned Thrush
By Richard Hunt
 
HURLED from a fairy catapult,
Up like a song gone somersaulting,
Up like a dream to the white moon vaulting,
I hear your liquid voice exult.
 
Half to the moon I hear you sigh        5
Like trees, and ripple on like brooks;
The magic of the wild wood-nooks
You shake out through the silver sky.
 
Oh, tell me, are you bursting so
With secrets that the woodlands tell        10
That you must hurtle from the dell,
And up, so all the air shall know?
 
Are you a song and nothing else,
Gone tumbling up the night of June?
Is that your form against the moon,        15
That trembles, palpitates and melts?
 
Now your crescendos, note on note,
Like one last challenge wildly pour …
And then you float to earth once more—
Unseen, as dreams and silence float.        20
 
 
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