无休止地摇摇篮,从舌鸟的喉咙,音乐航天飞机,九个月的午夜,在无菌砂和字段之外,孩子离开他的床上独自徘徊想,光着头,赤着脚,从淋浴会晕,从神秘的阴影缠绕和扭曲,好像他们还活着,从蒺藜和黑莓的补丁,记忆的高呼我的鸟,从你的记忆悲伤的哥哥,断断续续的起义和下降我听说,从黄色半月late-risen和肿胀的泪水,从开始的向往和爱在薄雾,千回复的我的心从未停止,从无数thence-arous的话,从这个词比任何更强大和更美味,比如现在他们开始现场回顾,羊群,呢喃,上升,或头顶传球,承担这里,之前都躲开我,匆匆,一个男人,然而借着这些眼泪，我又成了一个小男孩，扑在沙滩上，迎着海浪，吟唱痛苦与欢乐，把今生与来世结合在一起，领会一切暗示，但又迅速跃过它们，唱出一首怀旧的歌。从前的波马诺克，当空气中弥漫着紫丁香的香味，五月草正在生长，在这片海滨的荆棘丛中，有两只从亚拉巴马州来的羽毛客人，两只在一起，还有它们的窝，还有四个淡绿色的蛋，上面有褐色的斑点，每天雄鸟在近旁飞来飞去，每天雌鸟蹲在窝里，沉默不语，眼睛明亮，每天我，一个好奇的男孩，从不太近，从不打扰它们，小心翼翼地注视着，倾听着，翻译着。发光!发光!发光!洒下你的温暖，伟大的太阳!当我们晒太阳的时候，我们俩在一起。两个在一起! Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or niqht come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding no time, While we two keep together. Till of a sudden, May-be kill'd, unknown to her mate, One forenoon the she-bird crouch'd not on the nest, Nor return'd that afternoon, nor the next, Nor ever appear'd again. And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea, And at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather, Over the hoarse surging of the sea, Or flitting from brier to brier by day, I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird, The solitary guest from Alabama. Blow! blow! blow! Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore; I wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me. Yes, when the stars glisten'd, All night long on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake, Down almost amid the slapping waves, Sat the lone singer wonderful causing tears. He call'd on his mate, He pour'd forth the meanings which I of all men know. Yes my brother I know, The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note, For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding, Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows, Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sights after their sorts, The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, Listen'd long and long. Listen'd to keep, to sing, now translating the notes, Following you my brother. Soothe! soothe! soothe! Close on its wave soothes the wave behind, And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close, But my love soothes not me, not me. Low hangs the moon, it rose late, It is lagging--O I think it is heavy with love, with love. O madly the sea pushes upon the land, With love, with love. O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers? What is that little black thing I see there in the white? Loud! loud! loud! Loud I call to you, my love! Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, is here, You must know who I am, my love. Low-hanging moon! What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O it is the shape, the shape of my mate! O moon do not keep her from me any longer. Land! land! O land! Whichever way I turn, 0 I think you could give me my mate back again if you only would, For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look. O rising stars! Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you. O throat! 0 trembling throat! Sound clearer through the atmosphere! Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want. Shake out carols! Solitary here, the niqht's carols! Carols of lonesome love! death's carols! Carols under that lagg