Classic Poem

Safely peck the scatter'd grain,
Fearless of the prying eye,
That thro' the frost-encrusted pane,
Scans the clouds that hover by,
As the blast collected, strong
Whirls the turgid mass along,
And, chilling sweeps the silver-surfaced plain:
Freely cull the scatter'd store,
Here I wait, to scatter more—
(When full, thou tak'st a transient flight)
Of grain, and crumbs all snowy-white:
All I ask, sweet bird, of thee—
A carol from the willow-tree,
When balmy Spring resumes her halcyon reign.