In painted plumes superbly dress'd, <br />A native of the gorgeous east, <br />By many a billow toss'd; <br />Poll gains at length the British shore, <br />Part of the captain's precious store, <br />A present to his toast. <br /> <br />Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd, <br />To teach him now then a word, <br />As Poll can master it; <br />But 'tis her own important charge, <br />To qualify him more at large, <br />And make him quite a wit. <br /> <br />Sweet Poll! his doting mistress cries, <br />Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies, <br />And calls aloud for sack. <br />She next instructs him in the kiss; <br />'Tis now a little one, like Miss, <br />And now a hearty smack. <br /> <br />At first he aims at what he hears; <br />And, listening close with both his ears, <br />Just catches at the sound; <br />But soon articulate aloud, <br />Much to the amusement of the crowd, <br />And stuns the neighbors round. <br /> <br />A querulous old woman's voice <br />His humorous talent next employs, <br />He scolds, and gives the lie, <br />And now he sings, and now is sick, <br />Here, Sally, Susan, come, come quick, <br />Poor Poll is like to die! <br /> <br />Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare <br />To meet with such a well match'd pair, <br />The language and the tone, <br />Each character in every part <br />Sustain'd with so much grace and art, <br />And both in unison. <br /> <br />When children first begin to spell, <br />And stammer out a syllable, <br />We think them tedious creatures; <br />But difficulties soon abate, <br />When birds are to be taught to prate, <br />And women are the teachers.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-parrot-7/
