The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves ... Second Edition |
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THE BLACKBIRD AND THE WREN |
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 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE BLACKBIRD AND THE WREN
Once the blackbird called unto the solemn crow,
“Oh, why do you for ever in mourning go?”
Quoth the crow, “I lost my own true love, alack!
And thereafter for ever I go all in black.”
Then the blackbird sighed from out the sally bush,
“Once I, too, fell courting a fair young thrush.
Oh, but she deceived and grieved me, Oh, but she turned false, false O.
And ever since in mourning I go!”
“Oh, why do you for ever in mourning go?”
Quoth the crow, “I lost my own true love, alack!
And thereafter for ever I go all in black.”
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“Once I, too, fell courting a fair young thrush.
Oh, but she deceived and grieved me, Oh, but she turned false, false O.
And ever since in mourning I go!”
Last the little wren he piped, “If we were men,
We could find us sweethearts, eight, nine and ten.
Then if one grew cold or turned unfaithful, O,
It is off to another we each could go.”
“Perhaps,” replied the crow, “that plan of yours might work
If we were living in the land of the Turk.
But the Colleens of Coleraine still are free to give us pain,
And so, my friends, in feathers we'll remain.”
We could find us sweethearts, eight, nine and ten.
Then if one grew cold or turned unfaithful, O,
It is off to another we each could go.”
“Perhaps,” replied the crow, “that plan of yours might work
If we were living in the land of the Turk.
But the Colleens of Coleraine still are free to give us pain,
And so, my friends, in feathers we'll remain.”
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |