In Wall Street once a potent power, <br /> And now a multi-millionaire <br />Alone within a shady bower <br /> In clothes his valet would not wear, <br />He watches bird wings bright the air. <br /> <br />The man who mighty mergers planned, <br /> And oil and coal kinglike controlled, <br />With field-glasses in failing hand <br /> Spies downy nestlings five days old, <br />With joy he could not buy for gold. <br /> <br />Aye, even childlike is his glee; <br /> But how he crisps with hate and dread <br />And shakes a clawlike fist to see <br /> A kestrel hover overhead: <br />Though he would never shoot it dead. <br /> <br />Although his cook afar doth forage <br /> For food to woo his appetite, <br />The old man lives on milk and porridge <br /> And now it is his last delight <br />At eve if one lone linnet lingers <br /> To pick crushed almonds from his fingers.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bird-watcher/
