The Whippoorwill

I     Above lone woodland ways that led     To dells the stealthy twilights tread     The west was hot geranium red;     And still, and still,     Along old lanes the locusts sow     With clustered pearls the Maytimes know,     Deep in the crimson afterglow,     We heard the homeward cattle low,     And then the far-off, far-off woe     Of "whippoorwill!" of "whippoorwill!" II     Beneath the idle beechen boughs     We heard the far bells of the cows     Come slowly jangling towards the house;     And still, and still,     Beyond the light that would not die     Out of the scarlet-haunted sky;     Beyond the evening-star's white eye     Of glittering chalcedony,     Drained out of dusk the plaintive cry     Of "whippoorwill," of "whippoorwill." III     And in the city oft, when swims     The pale moon o'er the smoke that dims     Its disc, I dream of wildwood limbs;     And still, and still,     I seem to hear, where shadows grope     Mid ferns and flowers that dewdrops rope, -     Lost in faint deeps of heliotrope     Above the clover-sweetened slope, -     Retreat, despairing, past all hope,     The whippoorwill, the whippoorwill.