Birds Nests

he summer nests uncovered by autumn wind,

Some torn, others dislodged, all dark,

Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,

Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them withI cannot help a little

That I missed most, even at eye's level,

The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.'Tis a light pang.

I like to see the

Still in their places, now first known,

At home and by far roads.

Boys knew them not,

Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests

That leaves and berries fell into:

Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,

And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.