Oliver’s singing
Comes down to my study,
As I sit in the twilight
Poring the problem
Of this old battered planet,
This universe tragical,
Bloodily twirling.
Nearly all his small span
And through both of his birthdays
This senseless hell-fury,
This horror has hurtled,
Yet he lies in his cot,
Happy, sleepy and singing.
Thus – I muse – at the core –
Of our battered old planet,
Something young and untainted.
Something gay and undaunted,
Like a bud in its whiteness
Like a bird in its joy.
Through the foul-smelling darkness,
Through the muck and the slaughter,
Pushes steadily forward.
Singing.
(Israel Zangwill)
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Based on Topics: Joy & Excitement Poems, Happiness Poems, Birds Poems, Education Poems, Singing Poems, Astronomy & Cosmology PoemsBased on Keywords: hurtled, oliver, bloodily, birthdays, foul-smelling, hell-fury