The WUp-Poor-Will 
63 
Sometimes sinking soon to silence, 
Sometimes throbbing on till daylight 
Reappears, and calls for quiet 
Lest the sound throb on forever. 
Sunlight sparkles on the water, 
Breezes set the waves a-rolling, 
Crows discourse upon the ridges, 
Thrushes sing within the forest, 
Swifts are flitting, sparrows chirping, 
Cows in distant pastures lowing. 
Minnows through the weeds are darting, 
Clouds above the lake are sailing. 
But the whip-poor-wills are silent ; 
In the copse, among the fern fronds. 
Underneath the lady's slipper, 
Voiceless, drowsy, hide the singers, 
Hide so closely that no footfalls 
Will arouse them, will disturb them. 
Till themselves or eggs are threatened 
By the foot of the invader. 
