To The Oriole

OW falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly

In tropic splendor through our Northern sky?




At some glad moment was it nature's choice

To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice?




Or did some orange tulip, flaked with black,

In some forgotten garden, ages back,




Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard,

Desire unspeakably to be a bird?

-- Edgar Fawcett

Today's Poetry Friday is being hosted by Becky over at Becky's Book Reviews. Check it out!