UNCAG'D one day, A Parrot grey The neighbouring woods allure; From prison free, "I now," quoth he, "Will act the Connoisseur." He found in wail Of Nightingale Deficiency of skill; The plaintive song Drawn out too long, Too tremulous the thrill. The Linnet's throat Had scarce a note Worth listening to; although, If early taught By him, he thought, She might have sung so-so. No bird that sung The woods among True vocalist esteeming; Still something wrong In every song, He silenced them by screaming. One day they came, With ceaseless blame Provok'd to such excess; "Good sir," they say, "Will you display The talent you possess? "Your taste so fine, No doubt, divine Your voice; we pray you, clear it; For doubtless we Much melody Might learn, if we could hear it." Abash'd, his head Poll scratch'd, and said, "Incomparably good The judges deem My Parrot scream, But sing I never could." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIRDS by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A HILLSIDE THAW by ROBERT FROST THE FLOOD OF YEARS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 19. TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 90 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE FIDDLER OF DOONEY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |