Hawks

And as we walked the grass was faintly stirred;   We did not speak—there was no need to speak. Above our heads there flew a little bird,   A silent one who feared that we might seek Her hard-hid nest. Poor little frightened one!   If we had found your nest that sunny day We would have passed it by; we would have gone   And never looked or frightened you away. O little bird! there’s many have a nest,   A hard-found, open place, with many a foe; And hunger and despair and little rest,   And more to fear than you can know.     Shield the nests where’er they be,     On the ground or on the tree;     Guard the poor from treachery.