<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358019" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wonga Pigeon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Men knew and loved my calling in old days <br>Days ere a bitter wisdom taught me fear.<br>Trusting and unafraid, I went my ways<br>By many a crude hut of the pioneer;<br>Calling by paths where lonely axemen strode,<br>By new-cleared farmland yet to know the plough;<br>Calling by deep sled-track and bullock road . . .<br>But where today man builds his last abode<br>Few hear my calling now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too trusting. When they found my flesh was sweet <br>Was sweet and white and succulent withal <br>What mattered beauty? I was good to eat!<br>Then trust was my undoing; and my call<br>A summons to men's hunger and the chase <br>A tame, ignoble chase with me the prey <br>Till far into some secret forest place<br>I fled, with that poor remant of my race<br>I hiding here today.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And only by lost paths o'ergrown with fern <br>By old, abandoned tracks in scrubs remote <br>You may, by chance, around a sudden turn,<br>Win some brief, fleeting glance of my grey coat.<br>Then, with a swift wing-clapping, I am hence;<br>Or, crouching down, ingenuously seek<br>To merge my colors with the brush-wood dense<br>And trick the spoiler, with the vain defence<br>Of earth's harried meek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358019" data-title="The Wonga Pigeon de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Men knew and loved my calling in old days Days ere a bitter wisdom taught me fear. Trusting and unafraid, I went my ways By many a crude hut of the pioneer; Calling by paths where lonely axemen strode, By new-cleared farmland yet to know the plou..."></div> </div> </div>

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