When I was a Bird

I climbed up the karaka

Into a nest all made of

But soft as feathers.

I made up a song that went on singing all by

And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.

There were daisies in the grass under the tree.

I said just to try them:"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little          children to eat."But they didn't believe I was a bird;

They stayed quite open.

The sky was like a blue nest with white

And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.

That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.

Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.

I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.

Then when he was quite near I said:  "Sweet, sweet!"For a moment he looked quite startled;

Then he said:  "Pooh, you're not a bird;

I can see          your legs."But the daisies didn't really matter,

And Little Brother didn't really matter;

I felt just like a bird.