Foliage: Various Poems

Man is a bird:
In swiftest speed he burns,
With twist and dive and leap;
A bird whose sudden turns
Can drive the frightened sheep.

Man is a bird:
Over the mountain high,
Whose head is in the skies,
Cut from its shoulder by
A cloud--the bird-man flies.

Man is a bird:
Eagles from mountain crag
Swooped down to prove his worth;
But now_ they _rise to drag
Him down from Heaven to earth!

WINTER'S BEAUTY

Is it not fine to walk in spring,
When leaves are born, and hear birds sing?
And when they lose their singing powers,
In summer, watch the bees at flowers?
Is it not fine, when summer's past,
To have the leaves, no longer fast,
Biting my heel where'er I go,
Or dancing lightly on my toe?
Now winter's here and rivers freeze;
As I walk out I see the trees,
Wherein the pretty squirrels sleep,
All standing in the snow so deep:
And ever