05.05.2009, 18:50
THE ROOK.
Thou skimmest up and down in the blue air,
Year after year, companionable bird,
Making the murmur of thy coming heard,
As a great fleet's, in the still evening glare.
Thou hast the corn-fields in thy tutelar care,
Yet 'mongst them is thy name an evil word;
Ever thy multitudinous flight is stirred
By a young villain set the rooks to scare.
Tis a churl's deed; but in the quiet night,
When he is stretched upon his pallet board,
Why do ye rise, with wakeful accents so ?
Then, 'tis the owlet's immemorial right,
On his vague quest over the dewy sward,
Hearing nought else but muttering winds, to go.
Thou skimmest up and down in the blue air,
Year after year, companionable bird,
Making the murmur of thy coming heard,
As a great fleet's, in the still evening glare.
Thou hast the corn-fields in thy tutelar care,
Yet 'mongst them is thy name an evil word;
Ever thy multitudinous flight is stirred
By a young villain set the rooks to scare.
Tis a churl's deed; but in the quiet night,
When he is stretched upon his pallet board,
Why do ye rise, with wakeful accents so ?
Then, 'tis the owlet's immemorial right,
On his vague quest over the dewy sward,
Hearing nought else but muttering winds, to go.