 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
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The Admiring Admirer
A daw that went in feathers not his own
Sought out the opulent bird he had them from,
And cried, “Behold, the plumage thou hast strown
To glory come!”
Sought out the opulent bird he had them from,
And cried, “Behold, the plumage thou hast strown
To glory come!”
Whereon the other, “That thou shouldst aspire
So stuck with wastage keeps thee in our love;
They steal Jove's thunder and they steal his fire
Yet hurt, not Jove.”
So stuck with wastage keeps thee in our love;
They steal Jove's thunder and they steal his fire
Yet hurt, not Jove.”
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |