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
