Flight Of Song, The Poem by Ina D. Coolbrith

How may the poet sing
When Song is far away?
He has no charm to bring,
No power of yea or nay,
To lure that peerless wing,
To bid it go or stay.
How may the poet sing
With Song so far away?

Bind-and her voice is dumb;
She droops, she dies.
Loose her- no echoes come
From her far skies.
Farther she mounts, and higher;
Elate, elusive still,
She knows alone one will-
Her own desire.
O lingering delay!
When, lo, on one glad day,
Into the heart she slips
With swift surprise!
Her touch upon the lips,
Upon the eyes,
And all life’s pulses thrill,
And all the world is spring-
Is spring in Paradise:
Then may the poet sing!