 | The Poetical Works of William Cullen Bryant |  |
373
THE OLD-WORLD SPARROW.
We hear the note of a stranger bird
That ne'er till now in our land was heard;
A wingèd settler has taken his place
With Teutons and men of the Celtic race;
He has followed their path to our hemisphere—
The Old-World sparrow at last is here.
That ne'er till now in our land was heard;
A wingèd settler has taken his place
With Teutons and men of the Celtic race;
He has followed their path to our hemisphere—
The Old-World sparrow at last is here.
He meets not here, as beyond the main,
The fowler's snare and the poisoned grain,
But snug-built homes on the friendly tree;
And crumbs for his chirping family
Are strewn when the winter fields are drear,
For the Old-World sparrow is welcome here.
The fowler's snare and the poisoned grain,
But snug-built homes on the friendly tree;
And crumbs for his chirping family
Are strewn when the winter fields are drear,
For the Old-World sparrow is welcome here.
The insect legions that sting our fruit,
And strip the leaves from the growing shoot—
A swarming, skulking, ravenous tribe,
Which Harris and Flint so well describe
But cannot destroy—may quail with fear,
For the Old-World sparrow, their bane, is here.
And strip the leaves from the growing shoot—
A swarming, skulking, ravenous tribe,
Which Harris and Flint so well describe
But cannot destroy—may quail with fear,
For the Old-World sparrow, their bane, is here.
The apricot, in the summer ray,
May ripen now on the loaded spray,
And the nectarine, by the garden walk,
Keep firm its hold on the parent stalk,
And the plum its fragrant fruitage rear,
For the Old-World sparrow, their friend, is here.
May ripen now on the loaded spray,
And the nectarine, by the garden walk,
Keep firm its hold on the parent stalk,
And the plum its fragrant fruitage rear,
For the Old-World sparrow, their friend, is here.
That pest of gardens, the little Turk
Who signs, with the crescent, his wicked work,
And causes the half-grown fruit to fall,
Shall be seized and swallowed, in spite of all
His sly devices of cunning and fear,
For the Old-World sparrow, his foe, is here.
Who signs, with the crescent, his wicked work,
And causes the half-grown fruit to fall,
Shall be seized and swallowed, in spite of all
His sly devices of cunning and fear,
For the Old-World sparrow, his foe, is here.
And the army-worm, and the Hessian fly,
And the dreaded canker-worm shall die,
And the thrip and slug and fruit-moth seek,
In vain, to escape that busy beak,
And fairer harvests shall crown the year,
For the Old-World sparrow at last is here.
And the dreaded canker-worm shall die,
374
In vain, to escape that busy beak,
And fairer harvests shall crown the year,
For the Old-World sparrow at last is here.
Roslyn, 1859.
| The Poetical Works of William Cullen Bryant | |