@3Suggested by an Excellent Article, "Starlings in London," by Mr. Eric Parker, "Spectator," March 6th,@1 1926. NOT your least glory, many-gloried Wren, Springs from these birds, that to your immense Dome When eve grows glassy cold and clear, come home From fallow and blue fen; Each flying to his mansion overhead, The guest of genius, sure of man at last, Though maelstrom roars and wild light volleys vast, Each calm and glad abed. Never was covenant nor entente like this, Which still shall gather confidence and joy; Man's city chosen the birds' metropolis, Whole myriads taken with a fair decoy! Through tree and chimney-top the news is told, With loud-tongued gossip of an age of gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A REPUBLICAN FRIEND, 1848 by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE MEDAL; A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION by JOHN DRYDEN THE CALL TO THE COLORS by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX TREES AND WAVES by AL-ISRA'ILI THE SCOTTISH CHRISTMAS by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |