I climbed up the karaka tree Into a nest all made of leaves But soft as feathers. I made up a song that went on singing all by itself And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end. There were daisies in the grass under the tree. I said just to try them: "I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little children to eat." But they didn't believe I was a bird; They stayed quite open. The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm. That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words. Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow. I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet. Then when he was quite near I said: "Sweet, sweet!" For a moment he looked quite startled; Then he said: "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see your legs." But the daisies didn't really matter, And Little Brother didn't really matter; I felt just like a bird. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AD LESBIAM by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS THE UNFORGIVEN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PASSED BY by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 31 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |