I TOOK a reed and blew a tune, And sweet it was and very clear To be about a little thing That only few hold dear. Three times the cuckoo named himself, But nothing heard him on the hill, Where I was piping like an elf The air was very still. 'Twas all about a little thing I made a mystery of sound, I found it in a fairy ring Upon a fairy mound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST MAN by THOMAS CAMPBELL THE HUNTING OF THE SNARK: FIT 3. THE BAKER'S TALE by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE MAYFLOWER [DECEMBER 21, 1620] by ERASTUS WOLCOTT ELLSWORTH AFTER AUGHRIM by ARTHUR GERALD GEOGHEGAN YOUR LAD, AND MY LAD by RANDALL PARRISH NEVERNESS, OR THE ONE SHIP BEACHED ON ONE FAR DISTANT SHORE by MARGARET AVISON |