O bird with heart of wassail, <br />That toss the Bacchic branch, <br />And slip your shaken music, <br />An elfin avalanche; <br /> <br />Come tell me, O tell me, <br />My poet of the blue! <br />What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?-- <br />Here's MY thought of you. <br /> <br />A small thing, a wee thing, <br />A brown fleck of nought; <br />With winging and singing <br />That who could have thought? <br /> <br />A small thing, a wee thing, <br />A brown amaze withal, <br />That fly a pitch more azure <br />Because you're so small. <br /> <br />Bird, I'm a small thing-- <br />My angel descries; <br />With winging and singing <br />That who could surmise? <br /> <br />Ah, small things, ah, wee things, <br />Are the poets all, <br />Whose tour's the more azure <br />Because they're so small. <br /> <br />The angels hang watching <br />The tiny men-things:- <br />'The dear speck of flesh, see, <br />With such daring wings! <br /> <br />'Come, tell us, O tell us, <br />Thou strange mortality! <br />What's THY thought of us, Dear?-- <br />Here's OUR thought of thee.' <br /> <br />'Alack! you tall angels, <br />I can't think so high! <br />I can't think what it feels like <br />Not to be I.' <br /> <br />Come tell me, O tell me, <br />My poet of the blue! <br />What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?-- <br />Here's MY thought of you.<br /><br />Francis Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-question-31/
