The Singing Garden

The Blue Wren

C.J. Dennis

WHEN the Mighty Craftsman drew
    Summer sky and summer sea—
Tints ethereally blue—
Here and there a small drop flew
    From His brush, and fell on me.
Once a sober bird of brown;
    Now, with my cerulean gem
Marking me for high renown,
Perkily I bear my crown
    As a kingly diadem.

For who pays me fit respect
    Full of friendliness am I—
Sprightly mite by heaven decked,
As a badge of His elect,
    With a scrap of His great sky.
Out across the dew-wet lawn
    Daintily I dance along,
And, as night’s veil is withdrawn,
Valiantly greet the dawn
    With a loud, full-throated song.

Azure cape and azure cap,
    Borrowed from a sunny sky—
Here and there a glowing scrap—
I’m a most important chap;
    Full of great affairs am I.
For no soaring flight I yearn;
    But, with wife and brood complete,
Dance I in and out the fern,
Bow and pirouette and turn,
    With my whole world at my feet.

The Singing Garden - Contents    |     Currawong, Pied

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