Unknown Bird ============ by `W.S. Merwin `_ | Out of the dry days | through the dusty leaves | far across the valley | those few notes never | heard here before | | one fluted phrase | floating over its | wandering secret | all at once wells up | somewhere else | | and is gone before it | goes on fallen into | its own echo leaving | a hollow through the air | that is dry as before | | where is it from | hardly anyone | seems to have noticed it | so far but who now | would have been listening | | it is not native here | that may be the one | thing we are sure of | it came from somewhere | else perhaps alone | | so keeps on calling for | no one who is here | hoping to be heard | by another of its own | unlikely origin | | trying once more the same few | notes that began the song | of an oriole last heard | years ago in another | existence there | | it goes again tell | no one it is here | foreign as we are | who are filling the days | with a sound of our own From The Pupil, 2002 and `Migrations, New & Selected Poems, 2005 `_. Shared as Poem of the Week on `The Merwin Conservancy `_.