Birds all the summer day <br />Flutter and quarrel <br />Here in the arbour-like <br />Tent of the laurel. <br /> <br />Here in the fork <br />The brown nest is seated; <br />For little blue eggs <br />The mother keeps heated. <br /> <br />While we stand watching her <br />Staring like gabies, <br />Safe in each egg are the <br />Bird's little babies. <br /> <br />Soon the frail eggs they shall <br />Chip, and upspringing <br />Make all the April woods <br />Merry with singing. <br /> <br />Younger than we are, <br />O children, and frailer, <br />Soon in the blue air they'll be, <br />Singer and sailor. <br /> <br />We, so much older, <br />Taller and stronger, <br />We shall look down on the <br />Birdies no longer. <br /> <br />They shall go flying <br />With musical speeches <br />High overhead in the <br />Tops of the beeches. <br /> <br />In spite of our wisdom <br />And sensible talking, <br />We on our feet must go <br />Plodding and walking.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nest-eggs/
