 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
381
The Cherry Birds
God maketh the birds his care,
When the ground lies buried with snow,
They speed through the cold, wintry air,
He teacheth them where to go.
When the ground lies buried with snow,
They speed through the cold, wintry air,
He teacheth them where to go.
In flocks to the city they speed,
The ash tree's red berries to find;
And perched on its branches they feed,
Till they leave scarce a cluster behind.
The ash tree's red berries to find;
And perched on its branches they feed,
Till they leave scarce a cluster behind.
They come to the cottage door,
Where the woodbine's berries remain;
And the white snow is sprinkled o'er,
With the berries' crimson stain.
Where the woodbine's berries remain;
And the white snow is sprinkled o'er,
With the berries' crimson stain.
Strange visitants to us they seem,
As they seek for their daily food;
Forsaking the hard-frozen stream,
The meadow and leafless wood;
As they seek for their daily food;
Forsaking the hard-frozen stream,
The meadow and leafless wood;
To visit the homes of men,
Their lessons of trust to bring;
And then to their wild haunts again,
Their joyful flight to wing.
Their lessons of trust to bring;
And then to their wild haunts again,
Their joyful flight to wing.
Poem No. 149; c. 17 February 1865
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |