Here comes Kate Summers, who, for gold, <br />Takes any man to bed: <br />"You knew my friend, Nell Barnes," she said; <br />"You knew Nell Barnes -- she's dead. <br /> <br />"Nell Barnes was bad on all you men, <br />Unclean, a thief as well; <br />Yet all my life I have not found <br />A better friend than Nell. <br /> <br />"So I sat at her side at last, <br />For hours, till she was dead; <br />And yet she had no sense at all <br />Of any word I said. <br /> <br />"For all her cry but came to this -- <br />'Not for the world! Take care: <br />Don't touch that bird of paradise, <br />Perched on the bed-post there!' <br /> <br />"I asked her would she like some grapes, <br />Som damsons ripe and sweet; <br />A custard made with new-laid eggs, <br />Or tender fowl to eat. <br /> <br />"I promised I would follow her, <br />To see her in her grave; <br />And buy a wreath with borrowed pence, <br />If nothing I could save. <br /> <br />"Yet still her cry but came to this -- <br />'Not for the world! Take care: <br />Don't touch that bird of paradise, <br />Perched on the bed-post there!' "<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bird-of-paradise/
