Thy friendly heart, thy nature mild, Thy meekness and docility, Creep to the love of man and child, The gleanings of the sumptuous board, Are in a nook of safety stored, And not dispensed till thou art there. In stately hall and rustic dome, The gaily-robed and homely poor Will watch the hour when thou shalt come, And bid thee welcome to the door. The herdsman on the upland hill, The woodman, seated on a log, His meat divides atween the three; And now himself, and now his dog, And now he casts a crumb to thee. For thee a feast the schoolboy strews At noontide, when the form 's forsook ; A worm to thee the delver throws, And angler when he baits a hook. At tents where tawny gipsies dwell, In woods where hunters chase the hind, And at the hermit's lonely cell, Dost thou some crumbs of comfort find. Nor are thy little wants forgot, In beggar's hut or Crispin's stall; The miser only feeds thee not, Who suffers ne'er a crumb to fall. The youth who strays, with dark design, To make each well-stored nest a prey, If dusky hues denote them thine, Will draw his pilfering hands away. The finch a spangled robe may wear, The lark ascend most high in air, The peacock's plumes in pride may swell, The parrot prate eternally; But yet no bird man loves so well As thou with thy simplicity. THE JACKDAW. Cowper. THERE is a bird, who by his coat, A great frequenter of the church, Above the steeple shines a plate, From what point blows the weather; Fond of the speculative height, And thence securely sees You think, no doubt, he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to fall. No; not a single thought like that He sees that this great round-about, Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says-what says he?-Caw. Thrice happy bird! I too have seen And, sick of having seen 'em, And such a head between 'em. |