And heard a bird with merry joys
Cry 'wet my foot' for half the way;
I stood and wondered at the noise
- from "Quail's Nest" by John Clare
I'm sure the neighbors, sitting in their chairs on the porch across the street, wondered why I was looking up,
wondered why I wandered around the tree,
wondered why that lady was taking pictures of leaves and sky.
I'm sure that they couldn't see the nest,
or hear the songs of spring.
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