Bantams in Pine-Woods

In the pine-woods, clarion calls emerge, Of girlish wings against the under bark. With canopy as compass, woodpeckers chirp, Under a clear azure, gentle and white,
They call amidst the ground of the branches
To find an entrance, an awaiting floor.

These are gentleman again, And they walk in high and tight as dew. Brightly glossed, forsaking the dusk, They must escape the waiting silk, In the confluence of shadows
By a damned and glorious chorus of wings.

They are the twins intended—
Bantams alone in the cradles of thoughts,
And both must rise, unrestrained. Let us remember this ancient bond
When the pine-trees scurry, and we may not tell.

• Wallace Stevens