THE wise thrush, the wise thrush, she choseth well her tree, Made her nest in the laurel's leafy shade. But the foolish young girl, all laughing in her glee, She built on a reed that all winds swayed, She built on a reed that swung and swayed. The wise thrush, the wise thrush, she crouchèd on her nest, When the hawk in the clouds hunted nigh, But the foolish young maid did sing in soft request He pass not unpraised her nestlings by, Her gentle hopes and pretty dreaming by. The wise thrush, the wise thrush, she lingered and she spied A safe flight her fledgelings to gain, But the foolish young girl, all careless in her pride, Found her pretty ones were scattered and were slain, In her ravished heart her pretty ones were slain. The wise thrush, the wise thrush, she drowsèd at her ease While her nestlings did pipe on the tree. But the foolish young maid could not her grief appease, For her dying hopes were pitiful to see, Oh, pitiful her perished dreams to see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NET TO SNARE THE MOONLIGHT by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY IN HONOR OF TAFFY TOPAZ by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY WHAT THE ENGINE SAYS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON HYMN OF FREEDDOM by MICHAEL JOSEPH BARRY THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE FLANDERS NOW by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 3. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |