XII
High from the earth I heard a bird;He trod upon the treesAs he esteemed them trifles,And then he spied a breeze,And situated softlyUpon a pile of windWhich in a perturbationNature had left behind.A joyous-going fellowI gathered from his talk,Which both of benedictionAnd badinage partook,Without apparent burden,I learned, in leafy woodHe was the faithful fatherOf a dependent brood;And this untoward transportHis remedy for care,—A contrast to our respites.How different we are!