Poems (Tynan)/Sparrow

​
SPARROW
When August hangs the bough with plums, The dusty city sparrow comes For sojourn in the country sweet, To taste the barley and the wheat.
Like any country bird he walks Down the gold aisles of bearded stalks, Pecks juicy grains in ear, and takes His pleasure in the barley-brakes.
He bathes in dew at morn, and preens His sooty coat to mock the sheens Of swallow, fieldfare, finch and wren That hate the dusty ways of men.
His cynic wit, his mocking eye, The innocent country ways decry; Though dews may wash his feathers clean He keeps the urchin's heart within.
The gossip his of chimney-stacks; Wherefore the pleasant country lacks Something, his ear the silence tires Who nests amid the city spires.
​
To the perpetual green and gold In dusk and dew his eyes are cold; For his untravelled heart yet turns Home where the smoky city burns.
A little while for health he stays Where Flora paints the country ways, But holds that still the town is best For men and birds of wit and taste.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.