We went to spot a trogon
And I began to hum,
Picking paces down a path
Greater than their sum.
Milky lime, the river,
Sometimes smoky jade;
In the brush, bromeliads;
Red orchids in the shade.
Cawing to the trogon
As if we knew his sound,
We surely drove him farther
To the dim background
Where flashes off the river
Flitted with the breeze
And likenesses of birds
Flocked behind the trees.
At length we reached
The ambit of a murmur
First confused. From hush
There rose up whispers, firmer
Round each bend, until
We knew a roaring
Falls could best explain
The din, though its pouring
As it filled the pool came
To form a quiet cove,
A hollowed cell recessed
Within the tangle of the grove.
I looked up through
The rainbow spray where
My creature should have been,
Emerald scarlet in the air,
Thoughts of ruby green.
The water’s plunge made the bluff
Beside it soar, but no bird
Perched up in that rough.
Mine remained the rarest,
One that’s never flown.
The echo of his dearth
Is for my ears alone.
[revised version]