In the wide bed <br />Under the freen embroidered quilt <br />With flowers and leaves always in soft motion <br />She is like a wounded bird resting on a pool. <br /> <br />The hunter threw his dart <br />And hit her breast,-- <br />Hit her but did not kill. <br />"O my wings, lift me--lift me! <br />I am not dreadfully hurt!" <br />Down she dropped and was still. <br /> <br />Kind people come to the edge of the pool with baskets. <br />"Of course what the poor bird wants is plenty of food!" <br />Their bags and pockets are crammed almost to bursting <br />With dinner scrapings and scraps from the servants' <br /> lunch. <br />Oh! how pleased they are to be really giving! <br />"In the past, you know you know, you were always so <br /> fly-away. <br />So seldom came to the window-sill, so rarely <br />Shared the delicious crumbs thrown into the yard. <br />Here is a delicate fragment and her a tit-bit <br />As good as new. And here's a morsel of relish <br />And cake and bread and bread and bread and bread." <br /> <br />At night, in the wide bed <br />With the leaves and flowers <br />Gently weaving in the darkness, <br />She is like a wounded bird at rest on a pool. <br />Timidly, timidly she lifts her head from her wing. <br />In the sky there are two stars <br />Floating, shining... <br />O waters--do not cover me! <br />I would look long and long at those beautiful stars! <br />O my wings--lift me--lift me! <br />I am not so dreadfully hurt...<br /><br />Katherine Mansfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wounded-bird/
