There, where those boughs of blackthorn cross,
Behold that oval ball of moss;
Observe it near, all knit together,
Moss, willow-down, and many a feather,
And filled within, as you may see,
As full of feathers as can be;
Whence it is called by country folk,
A fitting name, the feather-poke;
But learned people, I have heard,
Parus caudatus call the bird.