It was the Rainbow gave thee birth, <br />And left thee all her lovely hues; <br />And, as her mother’s name was Tears, <br />So runs it in my blood to choose <br />For haunts the lonely pools, and keep <br />In company with trees that weep. <br />Go you and, with such glorious hues, <br />Live with proud peacocks in green parks; <br />On lawns as smooth as shining glass, <br />Let every feather show its marks; <br />Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings <br />Before the windows of proud kings. <br />Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain; <br />Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind; <br />I also love a quiet place <br />That’s green, away from all mankind; <br />A lonely pool, and let a tree <br />Sigh with her bosom over me.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-kingfisher-2/
