Here you will find the Poem Starling of poet Katharine Tynan
The starling in the ivy now, For to amuse his dear, Mimics the dog, the cat, the cow, Blackbird and Chanticleer. The starling's an accomplished mime: Between his love-making He solaces her brooding-time By many a madcap thing. He is the saw, the spade, the scythe, He rings the dinner bell; Chuckles of laughter, small and blithe, Of self-laudations tell. Now by the battle-field he mocks As though 'twere but a game, Thunder with which the belfry rocks And the great bursts of flame. Till when the merriment will pall He turns to love again, Calling his love-sick gurgling call Above the dying men. Who knows what dream the starling weaves Of boyhood, soft and clean? A small room under golden eaves To which the sun looks in. The starling's talking in the thatch, Bidding the boy arise; And the door's opening on the latch To show -- his mother's eyes.
