Читать книгу Gray Lady and the Birds: Stories of the Bird Year for Home and School - Mabel Osgood Wright - Страница 7

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I know a little minister who has a big degree;

Just like a long-tailed kite he flies his D.D.D.D.D.

His pulpit is old-fashioned, though made out of growing pine;

His great-grandfather preached in it, in days of Auld lang syne.

Sometimes this little minister forgets his parson’s airs:

I saw him turn a somersault right on the pulpit stairs;

And once, in his old meeting-house, he flew into the steeple,

And rang a merry chime of bells, to call the feathered people.

He has a tiny helpmeet, too, who wears a gown and cap,

And is so very wide-awake, she seldom takes a nap.

She preaches, also, sermonettes, with headlets one, two, three,

In singing monosyllables beginning each with D.

But O her little minister, she does almost adore:

I’ve heard her call her sweet D.D. full twenty times or more.

And his pet polysyllable—why, did you hear it never?

He calls her Phe-be B, so dear, I’d listen on forever.

Now if there is a Bright Eyes small who’d like to go with me,

And on his cautious tiptoes ten, creep softly to a tree,

I’ll coax this little minister to quit his leafy perch,

And show this little boy or girl the way to go to church;

And where his cosy parsonage is hidden in the trees,

And how in summer it is full of little D.D.D.’s.

And if Bright Eyes will prick his ears, he’ll hear the titmice say,

“Good morning,” which, in Chickadese is always “Day, day, day.”

—Ella Gilbert Ives.

“Now that I have answered my own question, there was another that one of you asked, or rather a pair of questions. Why do some birds go away in autumn, and why do they come back? It is very important to know the answers to these, if we want to really understand about the lives of birds and the trials and dangers they undergo.