Burial of the Mocking Bird
Underneath pomegranate bush
(This way sob and this way hush)
Lay him in his little feathers
Where the coral foliage gathers.
Here the lilies of December
Light his slumber with small amber
Lanterns lifted at his head.
Oh, lament the song he had!
Mute he lies, once musical.
Who saw falter, or saw fall?
Leafy feet are now detained
Far from moonlight and from wind.
Flickering wings have gone the last
Flight a wing goes. He is dust.
Amen. Amen. How lost, how still is
He among the winter-lilies.
Structure
16 lines · 1 stanza