Classic Poem

Old Crow, upon the tall tree-top
I see you sitting at your ease,
You hang upon the highest bough
And balance in the breeze.

How many miles you've been to-day
Upon your wing so strong and black,
And steered across the dark grey sky
Without a guide or track;

Above the city wrapped in smoke,
Green fields and rivers flowing clear;
Now tell me, as you passed them o'er,
What did you see and hear?

The old crow shakes his sooty wing
And answers hoarsely, “Caw, caw, caw,”
And that is all the crow can tell
Of what he heard and saw.