HE'S not the bird I took him for-
I heard him in the distance screaming,
And tho' his voice was harsh, that hour,
I dream'd of glories, golden, gleaming!
This hour he meets my closer view;
And tho' he cuts as big a swagger,
I find a little cockatoo,
And not a peacock, in the bragger!
Not The Bird
Joseph Skipsey
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Poem topics: dream, bird, voice, view, golden, distance, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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