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114
CHRISTMAS MDCCCCXXVII
Within a few paces from my window runs
A London high road, where from break of morn
Far into midnight in continuous stream
Most pitiless rout and noise are headlong borne.
A London high road, where from break of morn
Far into midnight in continuous stream
Most pitiless rout and noise are headlong borne.
Nor here an end; but battered sore the soil
And house-walls quiver as the traffic speeds
This way and that, one ponderous machine
On heels of another, close-packed, serving needs
And house-walls quiver as the traffic speeds
This way and that, one ponderous machine
On heels of another, close-packed, serving needs
Of business, or pleasure, or excitement's lust
Of a swift hurrying through from place to place.
“Marvellous Age, has earth e'er known thy peer?”
Shout we: “What need to falter? go the pace!”
Of a swift hurrying through from place to place.
“Marvellous Age, has earth e'er known thy peer?”
Shout we: “What need to falter? go the pace!”
Outside my window by the garden-rail
Stands a small Lime-tree, whose protecting green
Offers scant harbourage for shy bird, you'ld swear,
Choosing snug refuge for its nesting screen.
Stands a small Lime-tree, whose protecting green
Offers scant harbourage for shy bird, you'ld swear,
Choosing snug refuge for its nesting screen.
Yet see who have housed therein, and reared their young!
Through summer's earliest days how oft that note
Soothingly plaintive from some neighbouring roof
Their advent heralding began to float
Through summer's earliest days how oft that note
Soothingly plaintive from some neighbouring roof
Their advent heralding began to float
In on our ears: and lo! one morn we knew
Here on our Lime they'd settled—Who are they?
Two Wood-Pigeons wild! sure, wanderers from afar,
And timorous no longer, as we once would say.
Here on our Lime they'd settled—Who are they?
Two Wood-Pigeons wild! sure, wanderers from afar,
And timorous no longer, as we once would say.
Nay, heedless enough of all our insolent clatter
They go and come upon their purpose set;
Daily we watch them as they quietly glide
Within their leafy homestead, and forget
They go and come upon their purpose set;
115
Within their leafy homestead, and forget
The babble of turmoil hard beside it heaving.
Ah! Birds, your secret would 'twere our's to-day!
Strength of a spirit's calm, apart, unflustered,
Whate'er the frenzies round Man's path that play!
Ah! Birds, your secret would 'twere our's to-day!
Strength of a spirit's calm, apart, unflustered,
Whate'er the frenzies round Man's path that play!
1927.
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