And kestrels poise for mice, there Anna went.
There, in the April, in the garden-close,
One heard her in the morning singing sweet,
Calling the birds from the unbudded rose,
Offering her lips with grains for them to eat.
The redbreasts come with little wiry feet,
Sparrows and tits and all wild feathery things,
Brushing her lifted face with quivering wings.
Jimmy was taken down into a cell,
He did not need a hand, he made no fuss.