Birds' Nests
THE summer nests uncovered by autumn wind.Some torn, others dislodged, all dark.Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.
Since there's no need of eyes to see them withI cannot help a little shameThat I missed most, even at eye's level, tillThe leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.
'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nestsStill in their places, now first known,At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.
And most I like the winter nests deep-hidThat leaves and berries fell into;Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.
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