O CURLEW, cry no more in the air,
Or only to the water in the West;
Because your crying brings to my mind
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
That was shaken out over my breast:
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.
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I love this poem and even wrote a curlew poem myself, because it's cries are always of lonliness. The pictures painted in this piece are evocative of a man lying in the heather with his lady atop him and the curlews crying overhead, so every time he hears it, he is reminded of better times and the lament of the curlew becomes his own.
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