Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/533

1850-60.] Then this cherished bird its song begins—

Always begins its song one way—

With two little dulcet words—"They say"—

Carroled in such a charming way

That the listener's heart it surely wins.

This sweetest of songsters, sits beside

Every hearth in this Christian land,

Never so humble or never so grand,

Gloating o'er crumbs, which many a hand

Gathers to nourish it, far and wide.

O'er each crumb that it gathers up

It winningly carols those two soft words,

In the winning voice of the sweetest of birds—

Darting its black head under its wing,

As it might in a ruby drinking-cup.

A delicate thing is this bird withal,

And owns but a fickle appetite,

And old and young take a keen delight

In serving it ever, day and night

With the last gay heart, now turned to gall.

Thus, though a dainty dear, it sings,

In a very well-conditioned way,

A truly wonderful sort of lay,

While its burden is ever the same—"They say,"

Darting its crooked beak under its wings.

WAITING.