THE MOCKING BIRD

by: Sidney Lanier (1842-1881)

UPERB and sole, upon a plumèd spray

That o'er the general leafage boldly grew,

He summ'd the woods in song; or topic drew

The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay

Of languid doves when long their lovers stray,

And all birds' passion-plays that sprinkle dew

At morn in brake or bosky avenue.

Whate'er birds did or dreamed, this bird could say.

Then down he shot, bounced airily along

The sward, twitched-in a grasshopper, made song

Midflight, perched, primped, and to his art again.

Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain:

How may the death of that dull insect be

The life of yon trim Shakspere on the tree?

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