The Whip-Poor-Will

Do you remember, father⁠—
  It seems so long ago⁠—
The day we fished together
  Along the Pocono?
At dusk I waited for you,
  Beside the lumber-mill,
And there I heard a hidden bird
  That chanted, “whip-poor-will,”
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  Sad and shrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”

The place was all deserted;
  The mill-wheel hung at rest;
The lonely star of evening
  Was throbbing in the west;
The veil of night was falling;
  The winds were folded still;
And everywhere the trembling air
  Re-echoed “whip-poor-will!”
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  Sad and shrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”

You seemed so long in coming,
  I felt so much alone;
The wide, dark world was round me,
  And life was all unknown;
The hand of sorrow touched me,
  And made my senses thrill
With all the pain that haunts the strain
  Of mournful whip-poor-will.
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  Sad and shrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”

What knew I then of trouble?
  An idle little lad,
I had not learned the lessons
  That make men wise and sad.
I dreamed of grief and parting,
  And something seemed to fill
My heart with tears, while in my ears
  Resounded “whip-poor-will.”
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  Sad and shrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”

’Twas but a cloud of sadness,
  That lightly passed away;
But I have learned the meaning
  Of sorrow, since that day.
For nevermore at twilight,
  Beside the silent mill,
I’ll wait for you, in the falling dew,
  And hear the whip-poor-will.
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  Sad and shrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”

But if you still remember
  In that fair land of light,
The pains and fears that touch us
  Along this edge of night,
I think all earthly grieving,
  And all our mortal ill,
To you must seem like a sad boy’s dream.
  Who hears the whip-poor-will.
  “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!”
  A passing thrill⁠—“whippoorwill!”