Do you remember, father,— It seems so long ago,— The day we fished together Along the Pocono?
At dusk I waited for you, Beside the lumber-mill, And there I heard a hidden bird That chanted, “whip-poor-will,”
“Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” Sad and shrill,— “whippoorwill!” The place was all deserted; The mill-wheel hung at rest;
The lonely star of evening Was throbbing in the west; The veil of night was falling; The winds were folded still;
And everywhere the trembling air Re-echoed “whip-poor-will!” “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” Sad and shrill,— “whippoorwill!”
You seemed so long in coming, I felt so much alone; The wide, dark world was round me, And life was all unknown;
The hand of sorrow touched me, And made my senses thrill With all the pain that haunts the strain Of mournful whip-poor-will.
“Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” Sad and shrill,— “whippoorwill!” What knew I then of trouble? An idle little lad,
I had not learned the lessons That make men wise and sad. I dreamed of grief and parting, And something seemed to fill
My heart with tears, while in my ears Resounded “whip-poor-will.” “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” Sad and shrill,— “whippoorwill!”
‘ Twas but a cloud of sadness, That lightly passed away; But I have learned the meaning Of sorrow, since that day.
For nevermore at twilight, Beside the silent mill, I'll wait for you, in the falling dew, And hear the whip-poor-will.
“Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” Sad and shrill,— “whippoorwill!” But if you still remember In that fair land of light,
The pains and fears that touch us Along this edge of night, I think all earthly grieving, And all our mortal ill,
To you must seem like a sad boy's dream. Who hears the whip-poor-will. “Whippoorwill! whippoorwill!” A passing thrill,— “whippoorwill!”
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