From Hawk And Kite (the Rocky Road To Dublin)

Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one!
If we had seen your nest of clay
We would have passed it by, and gone,
Nor frightened you away.

For there are others guard a nest
From hawk and kite and lurking foe,
And more despair is in their breast
Than you can ever know.

Shield the nests where'er they be,
On the ground or on the tree;
Guard the poor from treachery.