Joseph Skipsey

To a Startled Bird

FLY not away, wee birdie, pray!
   No weasels we, no evil-bringers,
Would make thee bear the pangs that tear
   Too oft the hearts of sweetest singers.
 
Long may thy nest with eggs be blest,
   And prove with these brown four, yet
       fountains
Of tender lays to charm the days
   Of future climbers of the mountains.
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