The Fledgling

POEMS

THE FLEDGLING

The fire is nearly out,

The lamp is nearly out.

The room is untidy after the long day.

I am here, unhappy,

Longing to leave the hearth,

Longing to escape from the home.

The others are asleep,

But I am here, unhappy.

The fire is nearly out,

The lamp is nearly out.

IMPRESSION

The orchards are white again . . .

There was one I knew

Whose body was white as they: fairer.

Alas! that we drifted apart

Faster than pear-petals fall to the ground!

STUDY

Oh carrot cat, slinking over the snow,

Your skin is blue, where the bitter wind ruffles your fur.

Can you not find one shivering sparrow in all this white

world?