The Oven- Bird ^5 
Arched and framed with last year's oak 
leaves, 
Roofed and walled against the raindrops. 
Hour by hour his voice he raises, 
Mingling with the red-eye's snatches, 
Answering to the hermit's anthem ; 
Rising — falling, like a wind breath. 
Strange, ventriloquous his music, 
Far away when close beside one ; 
Near at hand when seeming distant ; 
Weird — his plaintive accrescendo. 
Teach us ! teach us ! is his asking, 
Uttered to the Omnipresent : 
Teach us ! teach us ! comes responsive 
From the solemn listening forest. 
When the whip-poor-will is clucking, 
When the bats unfurl their canvas. 
When dim twilight Fules the forest, 
Soaring towards the high stars' radiance 
