 | Miscellaneous Poems |  |
225
The Rook.
There was a young rook, and he lodged in a nook
Of grandpapa's tallest elm-tree;
There came a strong wind, not at all to his mind,
All out of the north-west countree.
Of grandpapa's tallest elm-tree;
There came a strong wind, not at all to his mind,
All out of the north-west countree.
With a shrill piping sound this wind whistled round,
The boughs they all danced high and low;
Rock, rock went the nest, where the birds were at rest,
Till over and over they go.
The boughs they all danced high and low;
Rock, rock went the nest, where the birds were at rest,
Till over and over they go.
Uncle John walking round saw the rook on the ground,
And smooth'd it, and wish'd to revive;
Anne, Robert and Hill, they all tried their skill
In vain; the poor rook would not live.
And smooth'd it, and wish'd to revive;
Anne, Robert and Hill, they all tried their skill
In vain; the poor rook would not live.
226
And if in your fun round the orchard you run,
You really would wonder to see,
How sticks, moss and feather are strewed by the weather
Beneath each old racketing tree.
You really would wonder to see,
How sticks, moss and feather are strewed by the weather
Beneath each old racketing tree.
'Tis a very bad wind, as in proverbs we find,
The wind that blows nobody good;
I have read it in books; yet sure the young rooks
Would deny it to-day if they could.
The wind that blows nobody good;
I have read it in books; yet sure the young rooks
Would deny it to-day if they could.
They sure would deny, but they cannot well try,
Their cawing not yet have they learn'd;
And 'tis just as well not; for a fancy I've got,
How the wind to some use may be turn'd.
Their cawing not yet have they learn'd;
And 'tis just as well not; for a fancy I've got,
How the wind to some use may be turn'd.
Do you see Martha Hunt, how she bears all the brunt
Of the chilly, damp, blustering day?
How gladly she picks all the littering sticks!
Her kettle will soon boil away.
Of the chilly, damp, blustering day?
How gladly she picks all the littering sticks!
Her kettle will soon boil away.
How snug she will sit by the fireplace and knit,
While Daniel her fortune will praise.
The wind roars away,—“Master Wind,” they will say,
“We thank you for this pretty blaze.”
While Daniel her fortune will praise.
The wind roars away,—“Master Wind,” they will say,
“We thank you for this pretty blaze.”
227
Then spite of the rooks, what we read in the books
Is true, and the storm has done good.
It seems hard, I own, when the nests are o'erthrown,
But Daniel and Martha get wood.
Is true, and the storm has done good.
It seems hard, I own, when the nests are o'erthrown,
But Daniel and Martha get wood.
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