To a Crow

Bold, amiable, ebon outlaw, grave and wise! For many a good green year hast thou withstood— By dangerous, planted field and haunted wood— All the devices of thine enemies, Gleaning thy grudgëd bread with watchful eyes And self-relying soul. Come ill or good, Blithe days thou see’st, thou feathered Robin Hood! Thou mak’st a jest of farm-land boundaries. Take all thou may’st, and never count it crime To rob the greatest robber of the earth, Weak-visioned, dull, self-lauding man, whose worth Is in his own esteem. Bide thou thy time; Thou know’st far more of Nature’s lore than he, And her wide lap shall still provide for thee.

Collection: 
English
Robert Burns Wilson

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