Tree with a Bird in it — The Mocking-Hoarse-Bird by Christopher Morley
_Christopher Morley_ (Acting, in spite of himself, as if the Bird were his long-lost brother, and locating the Grackle, for poetic purposes, in his own home.
) THE MOCKING-HOARSE BIRD
Good fowl, though I would speak to thee With wonted geniality, And Oxford charm in my address, It's not quite easy, I confess: _Suaviter in modo's_ hard When poets trample one's front yard, And this is such an enormous crew That you've got trailing after you!
I'd washed my youngest child but four, Put the milk-bottles out the door, Paid my wife's hat-bill with no sigh (Ah, happy wife!
Ah, happy I!
) Tossed down (see essays) then my pen To be a private citizen, Written about that in the Post, When lo, upon the lawn a host Of Poets, sprung upon my sight Each eager for a Poem to write!
To a less placid bard you'd be A flat domestic tragedy,-- Bird--grackle--nay, I'd scarcely call You bird--a mere egg you, that's all-- Only a bad egg has the nerve To poach (a pun!
) on my preserve!
To P. Q.
S.
and X. Y.
D.
(Both columnists whom you should see) And L. M.
N (a man who never Columns a word that isn't clever,) And B. C. D.
(who scintillates Much more than most who get his rates) A thing like this would be a trial....
It is to me, there's no denial.
Why, Bird, if they would sing of you, Or Sin, or Broken Hearts, or Rue, Or what Young Devils they all are, Or Scarlet Dames, or the First Star, Or South-Sea-Jazz-Hounds sorrowing, It would be quite another thing: But, Bird, here they come mousing round On my suburban, sacred ground, And see my happiness--it's flat, You wretched Bird, they'll sing of that!
They'll hymn my Happy Hearth, and later The joys of my Refrigerator, Burst into song about the points Of Babies, Married Peace, Hot Joints, The Jimmy-Pipe I often carol, My Commutation, my Rain-Barrel, And each Uncontroverted Fact With which my poetry is packed ...
In short, base Bird, they'll sing like me, _And then, where will my living be?
_ _Franklin P. Adams_ (Coldly ignoring the roistering of his friends, addresses the Grackle with bitterness:) TO A GRACKLE
