Seeing Off A Stork
The sun's hanging low in the sky,
All the woodland birds quieten now.
They gather in flocks and fly
From the woods, now more spacious, somehow.
Brother stork, my visitor rare,
Both together we weathered our woes.
Now, my brother, alone you prepare
To travel – how far, God knows!
There gardens in autumn don't fade,
Skies shine in the sun's golden fire,
And here – only empty fields
And the falsehood of empty desire.
Mottled Autumn through stubble and straw
Lays its pathways all covered with mud.
I dream of your country, dear stork,
While the autumn wind chills my blood.
Ah, get ready, get ready, dear thing,
To catch up with the setting sun's beams!
The sun is for those who have wings,
While the lot of the wingless are dreams.
Jurgis Baltrušaitis's Other Poems
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Lucy Gray, or Solitude, William Wordsworth
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Dulce et Decorum Est, Wilfred Owen
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
- A Well-Worn Story, Dorothy Parker
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