Poetry
Pretty Girl
IN copses and woodland soft wings were astir, 'Mid budding of larches and shadow of fir, And a blackbird was whistling, out in the rain, Just over and over and over again- " Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! " He whistled it low and he whistled it high ; He tilted his bill to the grey of the sky—. " Pretty girl ! Pretty girl I Pretty girl ! "
There must have been somebody somewhere about--A nymph or a dryad, who danced in and out Of green-golden shadows, whoever the maid She'd thrill to the lilt of his gay serenade- " Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! Pretty girl !" The birches were tossing their necklets of spray, And still he kept singing—that troubadour gay- " Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! " •
Through hundreds of Springs, since the world was quite
young, The minstrels have chanted and poets have sung In praise of their maidens, and sought to invent
New ballads and measures; but all of them meant- " Pretty girl Pretty girl.! Pretty: girl !
And so sang the blackbird, right over the trees, His shiny, black feathers all fluffed by the breeze- " Pretty girl I Pretty girl ! Pretty girl ! "
BARBARA- EUPHAN TODD.
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