Poems (Tynan)/Of St. Francis: His Wrath

by Katharine Tynan

OF ST. FRANCIS: HIS WRATH

Our father, 'spite his tenderness
 For all the dear God made,
 Certes, at times was not afraid
To ban as well as bless.

There was a young bird, ravening;
 A little lark this was;
 From a low nest in sunny grass
His parents rose to sing.

And in the nest as well as he
 Four young birds soft and sweet,
 Through dew, and dusk, and noontide heat
In love did well agree.

Thither our father often came,
 Rejoicing to behold
 God's little birds, with throats of gold,
Swelling to praise His name.

And here he often stayed and prayed,
 Deriving much pleasure
 From the dear anthem wild and pure
The larks sang overhead.

And oftentimes he raised his hand
 Blessing those little birds,
 Who piped in answer to his words,
As they could understand.

But this young lark of whom I tell,
 Content not with his share
 Of worms and flies and such-like fare,
Cruel, insatiable,

Upon his little brethren set,
 And with his beak them slew.
 It chanced our father came thereto
While yet the blood was wet;

And saw the parents flying round,
 Their song all turned to moan;
 The murderer, careless, cold as stone
Surveyed that slaughter-ground.

Our father's wrath and pity grew
 And kindled to a flame:
 "Ah, thou vile bird of woe and shame,
Ill fate will thee pursue!

"Miserably shalt thou die," he said,
 "Be drowned, for all thy wings;
 And hated by all living things,
Even when thou art dead.

"The painted insect in the grass,
 The frog that croaks anigh,
 The firefly and the butterfly
Will hate thee as they pass.

"Even the cats and dogs," he said,
 "And carrion birds of air,
 On thy vile carcass will not fare:
A curse be on thy head."

And even so it came to pass,
 Before three days were done,
 That lark was drowned in a tank of stone,
The peacock's looking-glass.

And there he lay in Heaven's eye,
 Dead, and dishonoured too,
 Till someone passing by him threw
Upon a dunghill nigh.

Of all foul things in beast or bird,
 Or in men's hearts that be.
 This, the foul fiend of cruelty,
Our father most abhorred.