Ridgely Torrence
Reading edition
(Who felt that the Bird did not sufficiently uphold Art.)
THE FOWL OF A THOUSAND FLIGHTS
Grackle, Grackle on your tree, There's something wrong to-day, In the moonlight, in the quiet evening, You will rise and croak and fly away; Oh, you have sat and listened till you're wild for flight (And that's all right) But you have never criticised a single song (And that's all wrong) Lo, would you add despair unto despair? Do you not care That all these lesser children of the Muse Shall sing to you exactly as they choose? You are ungrateful, Fowl. I wrote a poem, Once, in the middle of August, intending to show 'em That you should not Be shot: What saw I then, what heard? Multitudes—multitudes, under the tree they stirred, And with too many a broken note and wheeze They sang what each did please.... And Thou, O bird of emeraldine beak and brow, Thou sawest it all, and did not even cackle, Grackle!