WHILE I watch the Christmas blaze Paint the room with ruddy rays, Something makes my vision glide To the frosty scene outside. There, to reach a rotting berry, Toils a thrush, - constrained to very Dregs of food by sharp distress, Taking such with thankfulness. Why, O starving bird, when I One day's joy would justify, And put misery out of view, Do you make me notice you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: THE VERDICT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT GENTLEMEN-RANKERS by RUDYARD KIPLING |