THE SINGING GARDEN

The Blue Wren

When the Mighty Craftsman drew
      Summer sky and summer sea—
  Tints ethereally blue—
  Here and there a small drop flew
      From His brush, and fell on me.
  Once a sober bird of brown;
      Now, with my cerulean gem
  Marking me for high renown,
  Perkily I bear my crown
      As a kingly diadem.

For who  pays me fit respect
      Full of friendliness am I—
  Sprightly mite by heaven decked,
  As a badge of His elect,
      With a scrap of His great sky.
  Out across the dew-wet lawn
      Daintily I dance along,
  And, as night’s veil is withdrawn,
  Valiantly greet the dawn
      With a loud, full-throated song.

Azure cape and azure cap,
      Borrowed from a sunny sky—
  Here and there a glowing scrap—
  I’m a most important chap;
      Full of great affairs am I.
  For no soaring flight I yearn;
      But, with wife and brood complete,
  Dance I in and out the fern,
  Bow and pirouette and turn,
      With my whole world at my feet.