Like the tasseled cords of my shoe.
Haw! haw! from the treetop laughs out crow.
“Don’t you know I am out with the very best?
I love the sun, and I flap to and fro,
The one black-wing not afraid of the snow,
Though you sometimes call me a pest.”
And Mr. Field Finch with chestnut hood,
As he swings and sways on his weed perch brown,
Calls in tones that you will not use when you’re good,
“Can’t you see a body? See! I’m here near the wood