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Title: The Blackbird And The Rooks
Author: Dinah M. Mulock Craik [
More Titles by Craik]
A SLENDER young Blackbird built in a thorn-tree
A spruce little fellow as ever could be;
His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black,
So long was his tail, and so glossy his back,
That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs,
And only just left them to stretch her poor legs,
And pick for a minute the worm she preferred,
Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.
And such a kind husband! how early and late
He would sit at the top of the old garden gate,
And sing, just as merry as if it were June,
Being ne'er out of patience, or temper, or tune.
"So unlike those Rooks, dear; from morning till night
They seem to do nothing but quarrel and fight,
And wrangle and jangle, and plunder--while we
Sit, honest and safe, in our pretty thorn-tree."
Just while she was speaking, a lively young Rook
Alit with a flap that the thorn-bush quite shook,
And seizing a stick from the nest--"Come, I say,
That will just suit me, neighbor"--flew with it away
The lady loud twittered--her husband soon heard:
Though peaceful, he was not a cowardly bird;
And with arguments angry enough to o'erwhelm
A whole Rookery--flew to the top of the elm.
"How dare you, you--" (thief he was going to say;
But a civiller sentiment came in the way:
For he knew 'tis no good, and it anyhow shames
A gentleman, calling strange gentlemen names:)
"Pray what is your motive, Sir Rook, for such tricks,
As building your mansion with other folks' sticks?
I request you'll restore them, in justice and law."
At which the whole colony set up a--caw!
But Blackbird, not silenced, then spoke out again;
"I've built my small nest with much labor and pain.
I'm a poor singing gentleman, Sirs, it is true,
Though cockneys do often mistake me for you;
But I keep Mrs. Blackbird, and four little eggs,
And neither e'er pilfers, or borrows, or begs.
Now have I not right on my side, do you see?"
But they flew at and pecked him all down the elm-tree.
Ah! wickedness prospers sometimes, I much fear;
And virtue's not always victorious, that's clear:
At least, not at first: for it must be confessed
Poor Blackbird lost many a stick from his nest;
And his unkind grand neighbors with scoffing caw-caws,
In his voice and his character found many flaws,
And jeered him and mocked him; but when they'd all done,
He flew to his tree and sang cheerily on.
At length May arrived with her garlands of leaves;
The swallows were building beneath the farm-eaves,
Wrens, linnets, and sparrows, on every hedge-side,
Were bringing their families out with great pride;
While far above all, on the tallest tree-top,
With a flutter and clamor that never did stop,
The haughty old Rooks held their heads up so high,
And dreamed not of trouble--until it drew nigh!
One morning at seven, as he came with delight
To his wife's pretty parlor of may-blossoms white,
Having fed all his family ere rise of sun,--
Mr. Blackbird perceived--a big man with a gun;
Who also perceived him: "See, Charlie, among
That may, sits the Blackbird we've heard for so long:
Most likely his nest's there--how frightened he looks!
Nay, Blackie, we're not come for you, but the Rooks."
I don't say 'twas cruel--I can't say 'twas kind--
On the subject I haven't quite made up my mind:
But those guns went pop-popping all morning, alas!
And young Rooks kept dropping among the long grass,
Till good Mr. Blackbird, who watched the whole thing,
For pity could scarcely a single note sing,
And in the May sunset he hardly could bear
To hear the returning Rooks' caw of despair.
"O, dear Mrs. Blackbird," at last warbled he,
"How happy we are in our humble thorn-tree;
How gaily we live, living honest and poor,
How sweet are the may-blossoms over our door."
"And then our dear children," the mother replied,
And she nested them close to her warm feathered side,
And with a soft twitter of drowsy content,
In the quiet May moonlight to sleep they all went.
[The end]
Dinah M. Mulock Craik's poem: Blackbird And The Rooks
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