EVEN among the tits and wrens
    And birds of scanty inches,
Small fowl of shaded forest glens,
The lesser warblers and their hens
    And little chats and finches
I hold an unassuming place,
    In lowly regions winging;
So, few remark my nimble grace
    And fewer praise my singing.

Where sunshafts pierce the denser scrub,
    And tangled shadows blacken
Green sward, I flit from shrub to shrub
To seek the appetizing grub,
    And dance amid the bracken;
Singing my little song the while
    For those who care to listen,
While high above the soft skies smile
    And gum-leaves glint and glisten.

No noisy chorister am I
    Bedecked in gaudy vesture;
On no wide venturings I fly
’Mid tree-tops towering to the sky.
    Less lordly is my gesture.
I lodge and labour with the meek
    In secret ways and scented,
And nimbly play at hide-and-seek
By ferny dale and friendly creek,
    Unfamed, but well contented.