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The Wren’s Nest
I TOOK the wren's nest;--
Heaven forgive me!
Its merry architects so small
Had scarcely finished their wee hall,
That, empty still, and neat and fair,
Hung idly in the summer air.
The mossy walls, the dainty door,
Where Love should enter and explore,
And Love sit carolling outside,
And Love within chirp multiplied;--
I took the wren's nest;--
Heaven forgive me!
How many hours of happy pains
Through early frosts and April rains,
How many songs at eve and morn
O'er springing grass and greening corn,
Before the pretty house was made!
One little minute, only one,
And she'll fly back, and find it--gone!
I took the wren's nest:
Bird, forgive me!
Thou and thy mate, sans let, sans fear,
Ye have before you all the year,
And every wood holds nooks for you,
In which to sing and build and woo;
One piteous cry of birdish pain--
And ye'll begin your life again,
And quite forget the lost, lost home
In many a busy home to come.--
But I?--Your wee house keep I must
Until it crumble into dust.
I took the wren's nest:
God forgive me!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Hen and the Wren
The lovely, laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren.
'Good morning. It's nice to see you now and then.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'Thank you Mrs. Hen.
I haven't seen you for awhile and don't remember when.'
The laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren, 'If you recall,
The last time we were together was a bit before last fall.'
The wren smiled and said, 'Oh yes I should have guessed.
It's spring again so I'm back to build another nest.'
The hen said, 'Soon we both will be sitting on our eggs.
Not long after that there'll be babies ‘neath our legs.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'I wish my eggs weren't so small.
Your eggs are so large that your babies will be tall.'
Well the lovely laying hen said, 'Your eggs are just right.
And that song you sing brings everyone delight.'
From spring to fall wherever hens and wrens reside,
There'll be nests, eggs and babies chirping far and wide.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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For every Bird a Nest
143
For every Bird a Nest—
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round—
Wherefore when boughs are free—
Households in every tree—
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high—
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires—
Perhaps of twig so fine—
Of twine e'en superfine,
Her pride aspires—
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house—
Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fifty Faggots
There they stand, on their ends, the fifty fag gots
That once were underwood of hazel and ash
In Jenny Pink's copse. Now, by the hedge
Close packed, they make a thicket fancy alone
Can creep through with the mouse and wren. Next spring
A blackbird or robin will nest there,
Accustomed to them, thinking they will remain
Whatever is for ever to a bird:
This Spring it is too late; the swift has come.
'Twas a hot day for carrying them up:
Better they will never warm me, though they must
Light several Winters' fires. Before they are done
The war will have ended, many other things
Have ended, maybe, that I can no more
Foresee or more control than robin and wren.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Wren
World
Do not give me anything.
I would lose it.
Or abuse it
Or something.
Don't get too close to me.
When only the wren can sing my pain
So sweetly.
Don't try to break my chain.
Love left me bound and gagged
In the rain.
All passion drying
In the vein.
Only the wren
Can set me free.
Warbling so sweetly.
Please do not kiss me.
And say you care.
My emotional repair
Is beyond any sweet embrace.
Touch the scars upon my face
From burning tears.
Only the wren
Can quell my fears.
For just one minute
In early morning,
I am healed.
When that unwritten love song
Is revealed.
Please,
Do not ask me
Why or where or when.
Just let me fly away
With jenny wren.
poem by Kevin East
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Build Your Nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest
Build yo' nest on tenderness
The nest is yo' home and launcin' pad
Vibes ain't good gotcha' feelin' sad
Build yo' nest on love that tells it all
Gives you the strength to walk mighty tall
With a song in yo' heart most every day
song performed by by Earth Wind & Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child's Talk In April
I wish you were a pleasant wren,
And I your small accepted mate;
How we'd look down on toilsome men!
We'd rise and go to bed at eight
Or it may be not quite so late.
Then you should see the nest I'd build,
The wondrous nest for you and me;
The outside rough perhaps, but filled
With wool and down; ah, you should see
The cosy nest that it would be.
We'd have our change of hope and fear,
Small quarrels, reconcilements sweet:
I'd perch by you to chirp and cheer,
Or hop about on active feet,
And fetch you dainty bits to eat.
We'd be so happy by the day,
So safe and happy through the night,
We both should feel, and I should say,
It's all one season of delight,
And we'll make merry whilst we may,
Perhaps some day there'd be an egg
When spring had blossomed from the snow:
I'd stand triumphant on one leg;
Like chanticleer I'd almost crow
To let our little neighbours know.
Next you should sit and I would sing
Through lengthening days of sunny spring;
Till, if you wearied of the task,
I'd sit; and you should spread your wing
From bough to bough; I'd sit and bask.
Fancy the breaking of the shell,
The chirp, the chickens wet and bare,
The untried proud paternal swell;
And you with housewife-matron air
Enacting choicer bills of fare.
Fancy the embryo coats of down,
The gradual feathers soft and sleek;
Till clothed and strong from tail to crown,
With virgin warblings in their beak,
They too go forth to soar and seek.
So would it last an April through
And early summer fresh with dew,
Then should we part and live as twain:
Love-time would bring me back to you
And build our happy nest again.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Build Your Nest
Maurice white & verdine white
Build yo nest
Build yo nest
Build yo nest
Build yo nest on tenderness
The nest is yo home and launcin pad
Vibes aint good gotcha feelin sad
Build yo nest on love that tells it all
Gives you the strength to walk mighty tall
With a song in yo heart most every day,
Is what you need along the way
Things get rough, pain comes around
Put up yo dukes, knock it to the ground
If it get back up, do it over again
Smack it hard on its chinny-chin-chin
Now things around you cant do you no wrong
Think about love in yo happy home
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flood
I thought my true love slept;
Behind her chair I crept
And pulled out a long pin;
The golden flood came out,
She shook it all about,
With both our faces in.
Ah! little wren, I know
Your mossy, small nest now
A windy, cold place is;
No eye can see my face,
Howe'er it watch the place
Where I half drown in bliss.
When I am drowned hald dead,
She laughs and shakes her head;
Flogged by her hair-waves, I
Withdraw my face from there;
But never once, I swear,
She heard a mercy cry.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Who Am I?
(1950) leonard bernstein
Who am i
Who am i
Was it all planned in advance
Or was I just born by chance in july
Who on earth am i
My friends only think of fun
Theyre such a curious a lot
Must I be the only one
Who thinks these mysterious thoughts
Some day Ill die
Will I ever live again
As a mountain lion
Or a rooster, a hen
Or a robin, or a wren, or a fly
Oh, who am i
Do you believe in reincarnation
Do you believe in reincarnation
Were you ever here before
Have you ever had dreams
That you knew were true
Some time before in your life
Have you ever had that experience
So you must question
All the truths that you know
All the love and the life
That you know and say
Who am i
Will I ever live again
As a mountain lion
Or a rooster, a hen
Or a robin, or a wren, or a fly
If Im one of those lives
That have been reincarnated again
And again, and again
Oh, who am i
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Flight
Brand new baby birds in a nest
don't you fall to the ground.
For there are too many predators waiting
and quietly lurking around.
Don't leave your nest 'til you can fly.
Be patient and bide your time.
Then when you feel your wings are strong
then out of your nest you'll climb.
Now see what you were born for.
Flap your wings and soar into the air.
The sky's the limit for such as you.
As for me I can only stare.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Tintagel Graveyard
Who brought flowers to this grave?
I, said the wren.
I brought them as seeds and then
Watched them grow.
No, said the wind. That's not true.
I blew them across the moor and sea,
I blew them up to the grave's door.
They were a gift from me.
They came of their own accord,
Said the celandine.
I know best. They're brothers of mine.
I am Death's friend,
Said the crow. I ought to know.
I dropped them into the shadow of the leaning stone.
I brought the flowers.
No, said Love,
It was I who brought them,
With the help of the wren's wing,
With the help of the wind's breath,
With the help of the celandine and the crow.
It was I who brought them
For the living and the dead to share,
I was the force that put those flowers there.
poem by Brian Patten
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Bird Song - Crow
Crow
I detest the Carrion Crow!
(He's a raven, don't you know?)
He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
And his sanctimonious caw
Rubs my temper on the raw.
He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
Blue Wren
I admire the pert Blue-wren
And his dainty little hen
Though she hasn't got a trace of blue upon her;
But she's pleasing, and she's pretty,
And she sings a cheerful ditty;
While her husband is a gentleman of honour.
Cuckoo
I despise the Pallid Cuckoo,
A disreputable 'crook' who
Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.
I abhor her mournful call,
Which is not a song at all
But a cross between a whimper and a wheeze.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Dedication
Because I went the lone ways
Among the tall trees,
Because I loved the blue days,
The bird melodies,
Deemed you I did our love wrong
In loving these too?
Ah, every forest love song
Was sung, love, for you.
The green slope, the sky above,
The wild forest lore-
All these were but the mind's love:
The deep heart has more.
And were you rival of the wren?
Resentful of the dawn?
Ah, what would these avail, then,
If you, dear, were gone?
The wild joy that things possess
Would seem out of place,
And all beauty meaningless
For want of one face;
The wren's lilt for lack of you
Would wring the heart's core,
And stars upon the night's blue
Would move me no more.
poem by James Martin Devaney
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Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall
And will she leave the lowly clowns
For silk and satins gay,
Her woollen aprons and drab gowns
For lady's cold array?
And will she leave the wild hedge rose,
The redbreast and the wren,
And will she leave her Sunday beaus
And milk shed in the glen?
And will she leave her kind friends all
To be the Lady of the Hall?
The cowslips bowed their golden drops,
The white thorn white as sheets;
The lamb agen the old ewe stops,
The wren and robin tweets.
And Peggy took her milk pails still,
And sang her evening song,
To milk her cows on Cowslip Hill
For half the summer long.
But silk and satins rich and rare
Are doomed for Peggy still to wear.
But when the May had turned to haws,
The hedge rose swelled to hips,
Peggy was missed without a cause,
And left us in eclipse.
The shepherd in the hovel milks,
Where builds the little wren,
And Peggy's gone, all clad in silks--
Far from the happy glen,
From dog-rose, woodbine, clover, all
To be the Lady of the Hall.
poem by John Clare
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Evening
'Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.
The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love's name.
The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.
For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude.
poem by John Clare
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A Nest of Wasps
Closing the garage door
a wasp was flying past my head
but strangely it didn’t come for me
and for the first time
I saw a nest on the door
where there were plenty more,
some more small red stinging wasps.
At first I thought that the nest
was empty and when I reach for it
six more wasps flew past my head
and I drew my hand back instead.
By careful inspection
I saw many more wasps
sitting at the back of the nest
and these pests
were sure to sting somebody
time and time again,
but why they were avoiding me
I still do not know.
I couldn’t leave the nest there
and had to get them all dead
and yet somehow I pitied it
and which I could just instead
let them be.
poem by Gert Strydom
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As There Aren`t Safe Nests...
A migrating bird chirps into my ears,
'Can you make a nest for me that will be safe for ever? '
I don`t know what he means by a safe nest
For my nest has been on the verge of a collapse.
He flies away dreaming about a safe nest.
That leaves me with a question, ' Where to fix a safe nest? '
Safe nests should never be on the branches of trees
For trees themselves are tormented by storms and quakes.
Safe nests shouldn`t be on the roofs of man`s homes either
For his mischevious kids may throw away the eggs.
Safe nests should not be under the water or in the skies
For the fury and the terror of these elements are disastrous.
Safe nests shouldn`t be anywhere that eyes see or ears hear
For there are humans living on this earth.
You migrate my dear bird to anywhere you feel it safe
And never return to these unsafe homes.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Spring
Birds' love and birds' song
Flying here and there,
Birds' songand birds' love
And you with gold for hair!
Birds' songand birds' love
Passing with the weather,
Men's song and men's love,
To love once and forever.
Men's love and birds' love,
And women's love and men's!
And you my wren with a crown of gold,
You my queen of the wrens!
You the queen of the wrens --
We'll be birds of a feather,
I'll be King of the Queen of the wrens,
And all in a nest together.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Luxury is a state of mind.
quote by L'Wren Scott
Submitted by Micheleflowerbomb
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