Lit2Go

Birds all the sunny day
      Flutter and quarrel
Here in the arbour-like
      Tent of the laurel.

Here in the fork
      The brown nest is seated;
Four little blue eggs
      The mother keeps heated.

While we stand watching her
      Staring like gabies,
Safe in each egg are the
      Bird’s little babies.

Soon the frail eggs they shall
      Chip, and upspringing
Make all the April woods
      Merry with singing.

Younger than we are,
      O children, and frailer,
Soon in the blue air they’ll be,
      Singer and sailor.

We, so much older,
      Taller and stronger,
We shall look down on the
      Birdies no longer.

They shall go flying
      With musical speeches
High overhead in the
      Tops of the beeches.

In spite of our wisdom
      And sensible talking,
We on our feet must go
      Plodding and walking.