Poor bird! why with such energy reprove My presence? why that tone which pines and grieves? At early dawn, thy sweet voice from the eaves Hath gone between us oft, a voice of love, A bond of peace. Why should I ever plot Thy ruin, or thy fond affections baulk? Dost thou not send me down thy happy talk Even to my pillow, though thou seest me not? How should I harm thee? yet thy timid eye Is on me, and a harsh rebuke succeeds; Not like the tender brooding note that pleads Thy cause so well, so all-unconsciously; Yet shall to-morrow's dawning hear thy strain Renewed, and knit our indoor bond again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CITY REVISITED by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH EPITAPH ON THOMAS CLERE, SURREY'S FAITHFUL FRIEND AND FOLLOWER by HENRY HOWARD SESTINA OF THE TRAMP ROYAL by RUDYARD KIPLING |