LOUD broke the surge upon the sullen rock,
The startled valleys echoed back the shock;
Hard blew the wind, and far as eye could strain,
No living thing was left upon the main,
Save one poor, feeble, solitary bird,
With plaintive scream upon the breezes heard:
Chas’d from his nest by man’s encroaching hand,
He winged his flight too rashly from the land;
And toiling now to get his distant home,
With worn and wearied limb and ruffled plume,
Disabled on his native gale to ride,
He scarcely floats upon the troubled tide;
And up and down, and down, and up again,
Rising as oft, and rising still in vain,
Each effort brings him nearer to the shore,
But each becomes more feeble than before.
Will he not reach it? Will not one kind wave
Bear him to land and snatch him from a grave?
He would have reach’d it, had not some rash hand
Cast forth an idle pebble from the land,
With aim too sure the fatal missile sped,
And sunk the victim in the ocean’s bed.
Blame you the hand that did the wanton deed,
And struck the spent bird in his hour of need!
Pause then,for wounded oft and hard bestead,
On path more troubled than the ocean’s bed,
Constrain’d to voyage on too rough a day,
Bound for the skies but wounded by the way,
Far from its aim by sin and sorrow borne,
With strength subdued and courage overworn,
Each growing hope by some new sorrow riven,
From each advance to harder effort driven,
Full many a spirit, struggling with its doom,
Is toiling hard for shelter and a home,
Vainly essaying to put forth its wings,
And rise superior to earth’s feeble stings.
Pause then and think, or ere ye idly wound
What sorrow bears already to the ground;
Think, lest the whisper’d wrong, the heartless jest,
The ill-tim’d censure on a heart depress’d,
The hard construction and the trust betray’d,
Cast over sorrow’s night a deeper shade.
Too often smitten to resist the shock,
One stroke too much will cleave the solid rock,
And hearts surcharged with bitterness before,
Need but a drop to make the cup run o’er.
Spare e’en the rigid and unfeeling word,
‘Twas but a pebble sunk the wounded bird.
(Caroline Fry)
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Based on Topics: Home Poems, Birds Poems, Trust Poems, Idleness PoemsBased on Keywords: encroaching, construction, depress, disabled, surcharged, missile, bestead, essaying, overworn, ill-tim