To a Bird Singing in Winter
By John Castillo
Why, why, little bird, so cheerfully sing,
When all things around look so sad?
The prospect at present, as touching the spring,
Gives cause to be sorry, not glad!
Had April appear’d in loveliest hue,
And made the green meadows look gay,
Thou merrily might’st have mounted thy bough,
And warbled thy minutes away.
But summer’s far off, and still in the copse,
The cold winter’s snow doth descend,
Fierce winds, and sharp frosts, may yet blast thy hopes,
And bring thy sweet song to an end.
By craft of the boys, in bush, or in wood,
Thy foot may be caught in a snare,
And thou whilst seeking a morsel of food,
Be a captive, ere thou art aware.
Why merrily sing, when thou hast no barn,
In which to lay up thy grain?
Why warble thy notes, while unthankful man,
So often is heard to complain?
Why cheerfully sing when there are no flowers,
Or sun in the valley to shine?
’Tis proof that thy prospects are brighter than ours,
Thy heart more contented than mine!
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Thursday was much like Wednesday, though a bit colder. I finished scanning all the genealogy files, five big binders' worth (next week there may be more photos, I'm not sure yet). Otherwise my day involved laundries and cats and squirrels and catching a few Pokemon.
We watched some of the Wisconsin-Nebraska basketball game, then I had my Thursday fangirl Zoom chat, and then we watched a couple of episodes of Secrets of the Whales on Disney+. Here are some of the birds that have been hanging out in our backyard in the cold weather:
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