Classic Poem

Where beeches shade the pasture gate,
When nights grow short and days grow long,
The wood-dove woos his modest mate,
And this is all his wooing song:
“Curr-a-hoo, curr-a-hoo!
You love me and I love you.”

But wedded life is full of care.
Through all the sunny afternoon
They vainly strive, that shiftless pair,
To build their nest, while thus they croon:
“Coo-pe-coo! Coo-pe-coo!
Two sticks across, and a little bit of moss,
And that will have to do, do, do!”

When last I wandered down the lane
The little mother, all intent
To feed her greedy nestlings twain,
Was pouring forth a sad lament:
“Coo-a-roo! What shall I do?
I cannot feed my hungry Two,
Though the little red Wren
Can bring up ten
And rear them all like gentlemen!”