  Men say unfriendly words of you, poor birds! And I? I praise you for your saucy joy On dusty streets; I love you for your twitter In vines that cling to heated city walls; Your noisy congregations on the trees; Unchurchly ways of saying this and that About your brother men; your gaieties In parks nearby a fountain’s dripping brim. Men say your manners are not fine. And, too, They call you scavengers, they call you thief And enemy to other prettier birds. Perhaps we are one feather, you and I! I would not hold it any grief to be Your brother bird upon the city street. I love you, chatterers! Yet I have heard The lark in other lands, the thrush in this. Dull many a day had been without your din, Your wrangles under foot, your shameless ways. Men say unfriendly words of you. Of me They speak unkindly, too. Yet see how gay We are! Ah, well, we are one feather, you And I! We have the city streets for plunder, The eaves for wonder, and above there is The sky! |
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