Nest Eggs

 Nest Eggs by Robert Lewis Stevenson

Birds all the sunny dayFlutter and quarrelHere in the arbor-likeTent of the laurel.

Here in the forkThe brown nest is seated;Four little blue eggsThe mother keeps heated.

While we stand watching her,Staring like gabies,Safe in each egg are theBird's little babies.

Soon the frail eggs they shallChip, and upspringingMake all the April woodsMerry with singing.

Younger than we are,O children, and frailer,Soon in blue air they'll be,Singer and sailor.[Pg 87]

We, so much older,Taller and stronger,We shall look down on theBirdies no longer.

They shall go flyingWith musical speechesHigh overhead in theTops of the beeches.

In spite of our wisdomAnd sensible talking,We on our feet must goPlodding and walking.