And, friendly, crowd their nests of wattled sticks
In clustered trees, then patient keep unchilled
Their sea-blue eggs, and hear the first faint pricks
Against the shells; and soon each wistful brood
Beneath the mother's breast will doze or wake;
And soon each parent pair will wing with food
From waded shallows brown, and marsh and brake.
Between the flights they rest and tranquil look
Far down the glade from boughs or dusky nests,
And see the deer that wend beside the brook,