ONLY A BIRD. 



Only a bird ! and a vagrant boy 



Fits a pebble with boyish skill 

 Into the folds of a supple sling. 



" Watch me hit him. I can, an' I will." 

 Whirr ! and a silence chill and sad 



Falls like a pall on the vibrant air, 

 From a birchen tree, whence a shower of song 



Has fallen in ripples everywhere. 



Only a bird ! and the tiny throat 



With quaver and trill and whistle of flute 

 Bruised and bleeding and silent lies 



There at his feet. Its chords are mute. 

 And the boy with a loud and boisterous laugh, 



Proud of his prowess and brutal skill, 

 Throws it aside with a careless toss. 



" Only a bird ! it was made to kill." 



Only a bird ! yet far away 



Little ones clamor and cry for food 

 Clamor and cry, and the chill of night 



Settles over the orphan brood. 

 Weaker and fainter the moaning call 



For a brooding breast that shall never come. 

 Morning breaks o'er a lonely nest, 



Songless and lifeless ; mute and dumb. 



MARY MORRISON. 



73 



