Magpies

Along the road the magpies walk

with hands in pockets, left and right.

They tilt their heads, and stroll and talk.

In their well-fitted black and white.

They look like certain gentlemen

who seem most nonchalant and wise

until their meal is served — and then

what clashing beaks, what greedy eyes!

But not one man that I have heard

throws back his head in such a song

of grace and praise — no man nor bird.

Their greed is brief; their joy is long.

For each is born with such a throat

as thanks his God with every note.