The parrot, screeching, flew out into the darkness, <br />Circled three times above the upturned faces <br />With a great whir of brilliant outspread wings, <br />And then returned to stagger on her finger. <br />She bowed and smiled, eliciting applause. . . <br />The property man hated her dirty birds. <br />But it had taken years—yes, years—to train them, <br />To shoulder flags, strike bells by tweaking strings, <br />Or climb sedately little flights of stairs. <br />When they were stubborn, she tapped them with a wand, <br />And her eyes glittered a little under the eyebrows. <br />The red one flapped and flapped on a swinging wire; <br />The little white ones winked round yellow eyes.<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duval-s-birds/
