THIS eve I left the flocks to stray and crop the grass with no one by Because she so desired a nest, that little lass as old as I. I bore my treasure home: a nest the tiny finches fashion deft, As firm as ever mason wrought, as soft as ever weaver weft. The outer rim was like a wall built high, with creeping mosses clad, And all within was down and wool so fine and soft, O happy lad! How light the little eggs I hold! They'll make a necklace you shall wear Together threaded, little Anne, with strands from out your golden hair. If I could slip it o'er the cap you wear on Sundays, people would Believe you were a little saint just changed to child from angelhood! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNSEIL TO A BACHELER by MARIANNE MOORE A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 47. THE CARPENTER'S SON by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 39 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE MOTHERLAND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH BALLAD by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THREE THROWS AND ONE by JANE BARLOW |