Classic Poem

Whenever I behold a little bird
Moving and singing close about my feet,
All unafraid — because I have not stirred —
Of brutal blow or pitiless bullet fleet,
Eager to meet the mood which I profess,
By blithe acceptance of my friendliness,

I get a vision of the far-off day,
Far-off and dim, described by faith alone,
When all the tribes of Cain have passed away,
And Love, somehow, has come into his own;
When kindness is the one felicity,
And bird and beast and man are one in Thee.