The Vagabond and Other Poems from Punch by R. C. Lehmann
page 55 of 84 (65%)
page 55 of 84 (65%)
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But at last, tucked in for the hundredth time, He babbles a bit of nursery rhyme, And on the bed Droops his curly round head, Gives one long sigh of unalloyed content Over a day so well, so proudly spent, Resigned at last to listen and obey, And so begins to breathe his quiet night away. THE SPARROW Let others from the feathered brood Which through the garden seeks its food Pick out for a commending word Each one his own peculiar bird; Hail the plump tit, or fitly sing The finch's crest and flashing wing; Exalt the rook's black satin dress-coat, The thrush's speckled fancy waistcoat; Or praise the robin, meek, but sly, For breast and tail and friendly eye-- These have their place within my heart; The sparrow owns the larger part, And, for no virtues, rules in it, My reckless cheerful favourite! Friend sparrow, let the world contemn Your ways and make a mock of them, And dub you, if it has a mind, |
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