A

My little patch of shrubs and clover,

His steel bright gun held shoulder high

I scarce could check, a smothered cry.

Because I knew your nest was low

So shuddered when I saw him go.

A gunshot and I scarce could see

You had flown screaming to a tree.

O little bird with troubled breast,

A miracle has saved your nest.

I’m sorry you were frightened so,

You should not build your nest so low.

{58}

Broken Numbers

A MYSTERY puzzled and vexed me,

A

Unsolvable, strange and deep.

Perplexed and worn out in spirit

It followed me into my sleep.

Then with eyes that were heavy with dreaming

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