 | John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion |  |
THE WRYNECKS NEST
That summer bird its oft repeated noteChirps from the dotterel ash & in the hole
The green woodpecker made in years remote
It makes its nest—where peeping idlers strole
In anxious plundering moods—& bye & bye
The wrynecks curious eggs as white as snow
While squinting in the hollow tree they spy
The sitting bird looks up with jetty eye
& waves her head in terror too & fro
Speckled & veined in various shades of brown
& then a hissing noise assails the clown
& quick with hasty terror in his breast
From the trees knotty trunk he sluthers down
& thinks the strange bird guards a serpents nest
| John Clare: The Midsummer Cushion | |