With rakish eye and plenished crop,
Oblivious of the farmer's gun,
Upon the naked ash-tree top
The Crow sits basking in the sun.
An old ungodly rogue, I wot!
For, perched in black against the blue,
His feathers, torn with beak and shot,
Let woeful glints of April through.
The year's new grass, and, golden-eyed,
The daisies sparkle underneath,
And chestnut-trees on either side
Have opened every ruddy sheath.
But doubtful still of frost and snow,
The ash alone stands stark and bare,
And on its topmost twig the Crow
Takes the glad morning's sun and air.
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Comments
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Wonderful imagery in this piece. The flow and rhyme mesh together seemlessly. Excellent description
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Vibrant poem
I love the way he paints the picture of the crow with words and the colors are imprinted on your brain. And the description is so apt," old ungodly rogue" A great poem. -
Quite amazing, this is.
The imagery is splendid. -
Oh, this is absolutely excellent! A beautiful piece of poetry!!
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