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The Mocking-Bird (at night)


Written Text

A GOLDEN pallor of voluptuous light

Filled the warm southern night:

The moon, clear orbed, above the sylvan scene

Moved like a stately queen,

So rife with conscious beauty all the while,

What could she do but smile

At her own perfect loveliness below,

Glassed in the tranquil flow

Of crystal fountains and unruffled streams?

Half lost in waking dreams,

As down the loneliest forest dell I strayed,

Lo! from a neighboring glade,

Flashed through the drifts of moonshine, swiftly came

A fairy shape of flame.

It rose in dazzling spirals overhead,

Whence to wild sweetness wed,

Poured marvellous melodies, silvery trill on trill;

The very leaves grew still

On the charmed trees to hearken; while for me,

Heart-trilled to ecstasy,

I followed--followed the bright shape that flew,

Still circling up the blue,

Till as a fountain that has reached its height,

Falls back in sprays of light

Slowly dissolved, so that enrapturing lay,

Divinely melts away

Through tremulous spaces to a music-mist,

Soon by the fitful breeze

How gently kissed

Into remote and tender silences.

……………………………

“The Mocking-Bird (at night)”

By Paul Hamilton Hayne

Read by Ethan Holliman

Directed by Walter Evans

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