SINCE I have seen a bird one day, His head pecked more than half-away; That hopped about, with but one eye, Ready to fight again, and die -- Ofttimes since then their private lives Have spoilt that joy their music gives. So when I see this robin now, Like a red apple on the bough, And question why he sings so strong, For love, or for the love of song; Or sings, maybe, for that sweet rill Whose silver tongue is never still -- Ah, now there comes this thought unkind, Born of the knowledge in my mind: He sings in triumph that last night He killed his father in a fight; And now he'll take his mother's blood -- The last strong rival for his food. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE PRAYERS OF STEEL by CARL SANDBURG ON A VOLUME OF ANONYNOUS POEMS ENTITLED A MASQUE OF POETS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A SONG FOR MY FELLOWS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON LOVE'S NEW PHILOSOPHY by PHILIP AYRES CHRIST THE CONSOLER by HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER DEEP SUMMER by HARRIET GRAY BLACKWELL HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 25 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH TO MY HONOURED FRIEND MASTER THOMAS MAY, UPON HIS COMEDY, 'THE HEIR' by THOMAS CAREW |