GRAHAME. HE little woodland dwarf, the tiny Wren, Not so her wondrous house; for, strange to Her's is the largest structure that is formed In which (for I have seen) she'll sit and pipe For when (as sometimes haps) within a bush I think 'twas Solomon who said so, And in the bible having read so, Extends itself far up into antiquity. Yes, through all countries and all ages Flying and fluttering up and down You may be sleeping, sick, or writing, And needing silence-there's the Sparrow, The soul of Job in its severest season. Up in the leaden gutter burning hot : All met to wrangle, raffle, rant and scold. Send out your man! shoot! blow to powder The villanous company, that fiercer, louder, Drive you distracted. There! bang! goes the gun, And all the little lads are on the run To see the slaughter;-not a bird is slain There were some feathers flew—a leg was broke, But all went off as if it were a joke— In comes your man-and there they are again! But these Jack Sparrows; why they love far more Before your carriage as you drive to town, To his base meal the Sparrow settles down; He knows the safety-distance to an inch, Up to that point he will not move or flinch;— You think your horse will crush him—no such thing— That coachman's whip might clip his fluttering wing, Or take his head off in a twink-but he Knows better still, and liveth blithe and free. At home he plagues the martins with his noiseThey build, he takes possession and enjoys; Or if he want it not, he takes it still, Just because teasing others is his will. At home, abroad, wherever seen or heard MONTGOMERY. PARROW, the gun is levell'd, quit that wall. -Without the will of Heaven, I cannot fall. |