 | Carol and Cadence |  |
THE HAWFINCH.
The hawfinch comes
And roosts in May upon my budding plums.
Hawfinch, thou art not beautiful, in fine;
Thou hast no song
And (right or wrong)
The songbirds seem to shun that Hebrew beak of thine.
And roosts in May upon my budding plums.
Hawfinch, thou art not beautiful, in fine;
Thou hast no song
And (right or wrong)
The songbirds seem to shun that Hebrew beak of thine.
Thy toucan bill,
I know not if it be for good or ill;
But this I know, that when, on plum or pear,
The blackbird cons
Thy conk of bronze,
He straight bethinks himself of business otherwhere.
I know not if it be for good or ill;
But this I know, that when, on plum or pear,
The blackbird cons
Thy conk of bronze,
He straight bethinks himself of business otherwhere.
Nay, when thy pitch
Thou mak'st with me, my garden air, that rich
With song is wont to be in blossom-time,
Straight silent sure
Becomes and poor
Is May for me in half the pleasance of the Prime.
Thou mak'st with me, my garden air, that rich
With song is wont to be in blossom-time,
Straight silent sure
Becomes and poor
Is May for me in half the pleasance of the Prime.
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So, without thought
Of lack of courtesy to thee in aught,
Might I suggest that thou belike too soon
Hast by mistake
Forsook the brake?
How if thou wentest back and cam'st again in June?
Of lack of courtesy to thee in aught,
Might I suggest that thou belike too soon
Hast by mistake
Forsook the brake?
How if thou wentest back and cam'st again in June?
More welcome thou
(I mean no slight) to me wert then than now.
These singing birds are fanciful, God knows,
Like tenors all,
Both great and small,
And apt to take offence at anybody's nose.
(I mean no slight) to me wert then than now.
These singing birds are fanciful, God knows,
Like tenors all,
Both great and small,
And apt to take offence at anybody's nose.
| Carol and Cadence | |