Page:Stringer - Lonely O'Malley.djvu/241

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But your eyes were turned to the fluting bird,
And your brow was drawn with thought;
And I pulled six daisies out of the turf
And asked for the thing you sought.

"That solemn old bird," you idly mused,
He 's singing the whole day long—
That silly old bird—what good will it be
To him, when he ends his song!"