The Wren
L. Lehmann
A wren just under my window
has suddenly, sweetly sung;
He woke me from my slumbers
With his sweet shrill tongue.
It was so very early,
The dew-drops were not dry,
And pearly cloudlets floated
Across the rosy sky
His nest is in the ivy
Where his little wife sits all day,
And by her side he sings to her
And never flies far away.