The Rooks

​The Rooks

The rooks are building on the trees;
     They build there every spring:
“Caw, caw,” is all they say,
     For none of them can sing.
 
They’re up before the break of day,
     And up till late at night;
For they must labor busily
     As long as it is light.
 
And many a crooked stick they bring,
     And many a slender twig,
And many a tuft of moss, until
     Their nests are round and big.
 
“Caw, caw.” Oh, what a noise
     They make in rainy weather!
Good children always speak by turns,
     But rooks all talk together.
 
by Jane Euphemia Browne