I would my soul were like the bird   
That dares the vastness undeterred.   
Look, where the bluebird on the bough   
Breaks into rapture even now!   
He sings, tip-top, the tossing elm   
As tho he would a world o’erwhelm.   
Indifferent to the void he rides   
Upon the wind’s eternal tides.

He tosses gladly on the gale,
For well he knows he can not fail—
Knows if the bough breaks, still his wings   
Will bear him upward while he sings!

  • n/a

  • Source: The Gates of Paradise and Other Poems (1928)

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I was surprised how attached I got to my poems. I've had "Degrees of Gray in Philipsburg" memorized since my sophomore year, and whenever I get nervous or anxious about something I recite it to myself."
Sarah Calvin-Stupfel
2018 OR POL Champ