He's not the bird I took him for. I heard him in the distance screaming, And tho' his voice was harsh, that hour I dream'd of glories, golden, gleaming! This hour he meets my closer view, And tho' he cuts as big a swagger, I find a little cockatoo, And not a peacock, in the bragger! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERITAGE by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY by ROBERT BURNS NATURES COOK by MARGARET LUCAS CAVENDISH A REQUIEM FOR SOLDIERS LOST IN OCEAN TRANSPORTS by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LAST GOODBYE by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON STILL FALLS THE RAIN; THE RAIDS, 1940. NIGHT AND DAWN by EDITH SITWELL THE TRANSLATED WAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |