124
Poems
Well we'd go awhile, when something inside
Would stoop to the puddle and take a drink,
Then suddenly come to a halt again,
While REO sat down in the mud to think.
Once, while her mood was a pleasant one,
And she was moving along at her best,
We saw on the top of a telegraph pole,
The wonderful sight of an eagle's nest.
Would stoop to the puddle and take a drink,
Then suddenly come to a halt again,
While REO sat down in the mud to think.
Once, while her mood was a pleasant one,
And she was moving along at her best,
We saw on the top of a telegraph pole,
The wonderful sight of an eagle's nest.
He was a widower bird I guess,
For we saw not another feather move;
Frail, fickle mankind might learn of him,
For the eagle is known to have only one love.
With head aside, o'er the nest's soft edge
He viewed the world from his place on high,
We shouted and called till with wings outflung,
He sailed away toward the frowning sky.
For we saw not another feather move;
Frail, fickle mankind might learn of him,
For the eagle is known to have only one love.
With head aside, o'er the nest's soft edge
He viewed the world from his place on high,
We shouted and called till with wings outflung,
He sailed away toward the frowning sky.
Oh, wonder of birds! his long gray wings,
With their graceful sweep, flinging back the air,
Appeared like the rymic flutterings
Of a sail boat flying o'er sea as fair.
Ah, well! why dwell on that homeward trip?—
Though REO dwelt more than we liked to see,—
She did everything bad a motor could do,—
She even attempted to climb a tree.
With their graceful sweep, flinging back the air,
Appeared like the rymic flutterings
Of a sail boat flying o'er sea as fair.
Ah, well! why dwell on that homeward trip?—
Though REO dwelt more than we liked to see,—
She did everything bad a motor could do,—
She even attempted to climb a tree.
