 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
137
IMPARTIALITY.
My window reaches the cottage eaves,
And o'er it an elm with drooping leaves
Its light and graceful drapery weaves,
With shadow and light uncertain;—
And a robin brown, with a bright red vest
Covering all her musical breast,
Has woven a soft and cosy nest
In the folds of the leafy curtain.
And o'er it an elm with drooping leaves
Its light and graceful drapery weaves,
With shadow and light uncertain;—
And a robin brown, with a bright red vest
Covering all her musical breast,
Has woven a soft and cosy nest
In the folds of the leafy curtain.
I love to sit by the window here
And watch her bringing the dainty cheer,
Crumbs, bugs, and worms, to her birdlings dear
Whose appetites shock calculation;
But of all the bugs I have seen her get,
In storm or calm, dry weather or wet,
She never has brought them a humbug yet—
I honor her penetration!
And watch her bringing the dainty cheer,
Crumbs, bugs, and worms, to her birdlings dear
Whose appetites shock calculation;
But of all the bugs I have seen her get,
In storm or calm, dry weather or wet,
She never has brought them a humbug yet—
I honor her penetration!
138
To meet her coming, a tiny head
That seems all mouth, pops up from its bed,
And ere the gaping thing is fed,
Another, and yet another;
And then, with strict exactitude
She weighs and divides the precious food,
Giving part to each of her hungry brood,—
A just, impartial mother!
That seems all mouth, pops up from its bed,
And ere the gaping thing is fed,
Another, and yet another;
And then, with strict exactitude
She weighs and divides the precious food,
Giving part to each of her hungry brood,—
A just, impartial mother!
I wish Dame Fortune, who goes her way
Over the wide world, day by day,
Dispensing as sheer caprice may say,
The gifts which are hers to scatter,—
Sowing them broadcast, devoid of rule,
And in a manner provokingly cool,
Giving always some knave or fool
By far the best of the matter;
Over the wide world, day by day,
Dispensing as sheer caprice may say,
The gifts which are hers to scatter,—
Sowing them broadcast, devoid of rule,
And in a manner provokingly cool,
Giving always some knave or fool
By far the best of the matter;
Giving fame to one, and wealth to two,
And happiness to a blesséd few,
And nothing to me, and ditto to you,
In such a partial fashion,—
Would come to the window here with me,
And watch the nest in the swinging tree,
And learn of the mother-bird to be
More just in her distribution!
And happiness to a blesséd few,
And nothing to me, and ditto to you,
In such a partial fashion,—
Would come to the window here with me,
And watch the nest in the swinging tree,
And learn of the mother-bird to be
More just in her distribution!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |