Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/245

Rh There is no bird half so harmless,

None so sweetly rude as you,

None so common and so charmless,

None of virtues nude as you.

But for all your faults I love you,

For you linger with us still,

Though the wintry winds reprove you

And the snow is on the hill.