THE ORIOLE
Birdof thy pretty plumage, thouArt thou no prouder than the crow?If thou wert human, thou’dst surely be,—Men’s envious ways would make thee so,But ’tis much better as thou art;Then art thou naught but satisfied,—Thou feel’st no pain, nor aching heart;Thou hast no want, nor blinding pride.
Birdof thy pretty plumage, thouArt thou no prouder than the crow?If thou wert human, thou’dst surely be,—Men’s envious ways would make thee so,But ’tis much better as thou art;Then art thou naught but satisfied,—Thou feel’st no pain, nor aching heart;Thou hast no want, nor blinding pride.
Birdof thy pretty plumage, thouArt thou no prouder than the crow?If thou wert human, thou’dst surely be,—Men’s envious ways would make thee so,
Birdof thy pretty plumage, thou
Art thou no prouder than the crow?
If thou wert human, thou’dst surely be,—
Men’s envious ways would make thee so,
But ’tis much better as thou art;Then art thou naught but satisfied,—Thou feel’st no pain, nor aching heart;Thou hast no want, nor blinding pride.
But ’tis much better as thou art;
Then art thou naught but satisfied,—
Thou feel’st no pain, nor aching heart;
Thou hast no want, nor blinding pride.