Classic Poem

I'm the friendliest of them all,
When winter comes;
Daily at your door I call
Begging crumbs.
Clinging sideways to a stake,
Eloquent appeal I make.
'Spare a scrap for pity's sake!
This cold air numbs.'

I will follow as you dig
And search the dirt.
Worms or bettles, small or big,
Are my dessert;
And, should you seem gently kind,
From your hand I do not mind
Taking anything you find;
But I'm a flirt.

For when spring comes to the land
You are forgot.
I have great affairs on hand
As days wax hot.
Should I pass you, I pretend
To ignore my winter's friend;
Intimacy's at an end;
I know you not.

Yet, when winter comes once more,
And summer ends,
You will find me at your door
To make amends;
Clinging sideways to a stake,
Eloquent appeal I'll make:
'Spare a scrap for pity's sake!
Aw, let's be friends!'