INTRODUCTORY.
1
A little bird fares well in Spring.
For all she wants she finds enough,
And every casual common thing
She makes her own without rebuff.
2
First, wool and hair from sheep and cow:
Then twig and straw, to bind them fast,
From thicket and from thatch: and now
A little nest is built at last.
3
From out that little nest shall rise,
When woods are warm, a living song,
A music mixt with light, that flies
Thro' fluttering shade the leaves among.
vol. ii.
4
Its home? straw, twig, and wool, and hair.
Mere nothings, these, to house or herd.
Who made them something, made them fair,
Making them all her own? The bird.
5
O little bird, take everything,
And build thy nest without rebuff,
And, when thy nest is builded, sing!
For who can praise thy song enough?
6
And some believe (believe they wrong?)
If like the bird the bard could sing,
That, like the bird, fit home for Song
The bard would find in everything
7
By casual grace of common chance
From house and herd, from thick and thatch,
Assign'd for Song's inheritance
Had Song the gift that grace to catch.
8
Such things I found, by passers-by
As rubbish from the roadside thrust;
Which poets, seeking poesy,
Disdain'd to rescue from the dust.
9
Yet here they are—not rubbish now
I fain would hope. Do critics stare,
Reserve applause, and rub the brow?
Oh that a little bird I were!
