TITMOUSE
IF you would happy company win,Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,Idly in green to sway and spin,Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,A nimble titmouse enter in.Out of earth's vast unknown of air,Out of all summer, from wave to wave,He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,And take his commons there—This tiny son of life; this spright,By momentary Human sought,Plume will his wing in the dappling light,Clash timbrel shrill and gay—And into time's enormous nought,Sweet-fed, will flit away.
IF you would happy company win,Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,Idly in green to sway and spin,Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,A nimble titmouse enter in.Out of earth's vast unknown of air,Out of all summer, from wave to wave,He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,And take his commons there—This tiny son of life; this spright,By momentary Human sought,Plume will his wing in the dappling light,Clash timbrel shrill and gay—And into time's enormous nought,Sweet-fed, will flit away.
IF you would happy company win,Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,Idly in green to sway and spin,Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,A nimble titmouse enter in.
IF you would happy company win,
Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,
Idly in green to sway and spin,
Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,
A nimble titmouse enter in.
Out of earth's vast unknown of air,Out of all summer, from wave to wave,He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,And take his commons there—
Out of earth's vast unknown of air,
Out of all summer, from wave to wave,
He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,
Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,
And take his commons there—
This tiny son of life; this spright,By momentary Human sought,Plume will his wing in the dappling light,Clash timbrel shrill and gay—And into time's enormous nought,Sweet-fed, will flit away.
This tiny son of life; this spright,
By momentary Human sought,
Plume will his wing in the dappling light,
Clash timbrel shrill and gay—
And into time's enormous nought,
Sweet-fed, will flit away.