The Grackle

The Grackle

I saw a Grackle sitting
On the roof peak of the barn.
His tail was proudly flitting;
All challengers to warn.

The wind was roughly blowing
The day was cold and chill
But, bright was the sun, and glowing
On every distant hill.

The snow had lately fallen,
And trees with ice hung down
But the Grackle with his calling
Would not resign his crown.

For t’was April and the weather
Could not make him give up.
His mind was on the Heather
And the golden Buttercup.

It seemed he would not leave there;
Nor could I draw my eyes
From that cocky little Grackle
Who seemed so proud and wise.


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