Part 2

I sing how all the things outside The window look to me; The shiny wrinkles in the road, And then, about my Tree;

I sing about the City, too, The noises and the wheels; And Windows blinking in the sun;-- I sing the way it feels.

And if a Sparrow flies across, I put him in the Song.-- I sing whatever happens in, To make it last for long.

I sing about the things I think Of almost everything. Sometimes I don't know what to Think --Till I begin to Sing.

Wing-Sprouts

It happens when the birds go by And leave you far behind; And you flutter, till you ache All around your mind.-- Like a Flag, Like a Flag Flapping at the wind!

It happens when you catch the hills As blue as yesterday; You hold your heart in both your hands, Or it would fly away. Yes, it would! Yes, it would! Away--away--away!

It makes your heart into a Bird That darts, and leaps, and sings. --Oh, feel my pinafore, high up!-- Oh, do you think it's Wings? Do you think-- Do you think-- Oh, couldn't it be Wings?

Early

I like to lie and wait, to see My Mother braid her hair. It is as long as it can be, And yet she doesn't care. I love my Mother's hair.

And then the way her fingers go; They look so quick and white,-- In and out, and to and fro, And braiding in the light; And it is always right.

So then she winds it, shiny brown, Around her head into a crown, Just like the day before. And then she looks, and pats it down, And looks, a minute more.-- While I stay here, all still and cool. Oh, isn't Morning beautiful?

The Wind's East

The Wind's east,--Oh, Oh! Only a little while ago, To-day was just like yesterday. But now--now, only Now The world's all turned some silver way;-- I know how, I know how!

The Wind's east, The Wind's east!-- Salt, salt Wind that I love so. All the things in the garden blow Wavy gray;--and the Trees all know,-- Trees that never, never can go, Must know how it would feel to be There, where the Ships sail to and fro, Ships on the blue, blue Sea! And the homesick ones by the bridge up here Are tugging to get their anchors clear, And they reach up high, to see.

They catch their breath when they feel the air, And the rigging stirs, and the lanterns stare; For they know the tide is high out there, The gulls go skirling by, out there,-- The gulls and the Wind go free. And they tug, and they pull, and they wonder so When will the Captain let them go?-- Oh, Oh,--to Sea, To Sea!

After-Word

And shall we light the candle now? And leave, since there is so much more, Our cupful, and the share of bread, Here by the open door?

For some one might be wanting it, If there should chance to come this way, A very poor Man; or a Bird;-- Or maybe, God, some day.