Classic Poem

A LITTLE wren comes hopping slowly,
Picking, hopping by the gate;
Picking, hopping, bending lowly:
" Little wren, where is thy mate? "

" I neither know nor care, " said she —
And little wren here cocked her head —
" For he has used me cruelly,
I wish, indeed, that he were dead! "

" Ah, little wren, how can you say
You wish your little husband dead,
When he, perhaps, is far away,
For you and yours a-gath'ring bread? "

" Why no, " said she, " 'tis not quite that:
This morning, ere we left the nest,
He billed and cooed and was quite pat,
Yet, afterwards, may I be blest,

" If, when some cherries we had found,
He did not snap up two to one,
And then went piping round and round,
And swore he did it all in fun!

" And that's not all; for, yesterday,
When we flew down to have a drink —
Down yonder by the little bay —
What did he do to me? Just think!

" He pitched me from the margin slickly,
And, sure as I am not a marten,
If me he had not picked out quickly,
I should have been, sir, drowned, that's certain.

" And that's not all; for, one night, he,
After that sort of time called " old,"
Came home and railed and swore at me —
Ay, swore! because the nest was cold.

" And that was true, for, purposely,
I made the nest unpleasant all;
And that was right, for why dared he
To stay away from me at all?

" And all day long with tricks like these
He vexes, angers me, " she said;
" And so, because he loves to tease,
I wish indeed that he were dead! "

" Ah, little wren, can you so hate
Your little friend, you spiteful elf? "
" Why there's the rub, " said she, " my mate
I love as dearly as myself.

" Yet he so frets me with his ways,
And keeps me in such fear and dread,
That I have thought these last few days
'Twere better far if he were dead. "

" You little wren, come, tell me truly
Before the wretched cherry feud,
Had he not brought the rations duly
For you and for the callow brood? "

" Why, yes, that's true; but, then, I say,
'Tis no more than he ought, I think;
And, then, what earthly right had he
To duck me when I went to drink? "

" Why, little wren, he did reclaim
You from the flood, as you have told " ;
" Yes! yes! But, yet, why did he blame
His wren because the nest was cold? "

And so this silly wren went on,
And teazed her silly little head,
Still crying out, with many a moan,
" I wish that he or I were dead! "