Messenger at Dusk
A gainst the warm green reticence
Of dusk, the drowsy parliaments
Of leaves, a fragile spirit brings
His voice, his wings.
The purport of the stars is in
His breast; he is their paladin:
His lonely cadence flashes white
Before the night.
No stealthy shadows can suppress
That bird's triumphant wistfulness:
He has the starlight to rejoice
His wings, his voice.
Of dusk, the drowsy parliaments
Of leaves, a fragile spirit brings
His voice, his wings.
The purport of the stars is in
His breast; he is their paladin:
His lonely cadence flashes white
Before the night.
No stealthy shadows can suppress
That bird's triumphant wistfulness:
He has the starlight to rejoice
His wings, his voice.
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