The Scrub Wren

Even among the tits and wrens
   And birds of scanty inches,
Small fowl of shaded forest glens,
The lesser warblers and their hesn
   And little chats and finches
I hold an unassuming place,
   In lowly regions winging,
So, few remark my nimble grace
   And fewer praise my singing.
 
Where sunshafts pierce the denser scrub,
   And dappled shadows blacken
Green sward, I flit from scrub to scrub
To seek the appetising grub,
   And dance amid the bracken;
Singing my little song the while
   For those who care to listen,
While high above the soft skies smile
   And gum leaves glint and glisten.
 
No full-voiced chorister am I
   Bedecked in gaudy vesture
On no wide venturings I fly
'Mid tree-tops towering to the sky.
   Less lordly in my gesture,
I lodge and labor with the meek
   In secret ways and scented,
And nimbly play at hide-and-seek
By ferny dale and friendly creek,
   Unfamed, but well contented.