Читать книгу Chatterbox Stories of Natural History - Unknown - Страница 7

PROUD bird! I watched thee stalking by,

With stately step and slow,

As though thou fain would'st charm each eye

With glittering pomp and show:

And truly thou art brave to see,

In heaven's hues arrayed,

And plainer birds at sight of thee

Might shrink and be dismayed:

Yet, pampered bird! there still are those

I value higher far,

Albeit their garb nor glints nor glows

With many a jeweled star.

I love them for their gentle ways,

Their voices soft and sweet

In summer chorus, that repays

Right well their winter's meat.

For what is outward form at best

But accident of birth?

That form in splendid raiment drest

Is still but common earth.

And yet 'tis he whose painted plumes

Shine fairest in the sun,

Who haughtiest look of pride assumes,

As though by him 'twere done.

We smile to see yon bird strut by,

Thus proud of his array;

But human friends we may espy

As foolish every day.

Not beauty's form nor grand attire

Upon the wise will tell,

But acts of those who e'er aspire

To do their DUTY well.