To A Sparrow

Because you have no fear to

Wings with those of greater part,

So like me, with song I

Your sweet impudence of heart.

And when prouder feathers go

Summer holds her leafy show,

You still come to us from

Like grey leaves across the snow.

In back ways where odd and end

To your meals you drop down sure,

Knowing every broken

Of the hospitable poor.

There is no bird half so harmless,

None so sweetly rude as you,

None so common and so charmless,

None of virtues nude as you.

But for all your faults I love you,

For you linger with us still,

Though the wintry winds reprove

And the snow is on the hill.

Poem Dated:

Londonderry,

September 20th, 1916.

This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge,

Published by Herbert Jenkins,

London 1918 page 18-19