Heart, not so heavy as mine
Wending late home ―
As it passed my window
Whistled itself a tune ―
A careless snatch ― a ballad ―
A ditty of the street ―
Yet to my irritated Ear
An Anodyne so sweet ―
It was as if a Bobolink
Sauntering this way
Carolled, and paused, and carolled ―
Then bubbled slow away!
It was as if a chirping brook
Upon a dusty way ―
Set bleeding feet to minuets
Without the knowing why!
Tomorrow, night will come again ―
Perhaps, weary and sore ―
Ah Bugle! By my window
I pray you pass once more.
Emily Dickinson
It’s heart, not so heavy as mine
Went home late ―
When it passed my window
It whistled a tune ―
Suddenly it sang a ballad ―
An air of the street ―
A very sweet pain-killer
To my irritated Ear yet sweet ―
It was as if a bobolink
Strolling this way
Caroled, and paused, and caroled ―
Then slowly bubbled away!
It was as if a brook on a dusty way
Chirped and set bleeding feet ―
To minuets
Without the knowing why!
Tomorrow, night will come again ―
Perhaps, weary and painful ―
Ah Bugle! I pray you pass once more.
By my window
It may be a nocturnal hunter. It sings a gloomy song that relieves Emily’s painful heart. I bet on an owl, one of her favorite birds.
