Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages

by Unknown

UPON THE LARK AND THE FOWLER

Thou simple Bird what mak'st thou here to play?

Look, there's the Fowler, prethee come away.

Dost not behold the Net? Look there 'tis spread,

Venture a little further thou art dead.

Is there not room enough in all the Field

For thee to play in, but thou needs must yield

To the deceitful glitt'ring of a Glass,

Placed betwixt Nets to bring thy death to pass?

Bird, if thou art so much for dazling light,