The Two Thrushes

A Thrush, with years grown gray,
And wise as well as old,
His grandson asked one day,--
An unpractised youth and bold,--
With him to go straightway,
Their morning flight to hold,
Where a well-stocked vineyard lay--
On its luscious fruit to prey.

"Where may this vineyard be?"--
The youngling answered coy,--
"And what fruit is there?"--"We'll see.
Learn how to live, my boy,"
Said the grandsire. "Come with me,
And a banquet rich enjoy."
As he spoke the words, he shew
Where thick the clusters grew.

The pert young pilferer saw;--
"Is this the fruit you puff?
Who would think you were so raw?
What puny, withered stuff!
Pooh! It isn't worth a straw.
Now, bigger fruit enough,
And better far than any here
I know of, in a garden near.

A single grape, I'll swear,
Will prove better than it all.
But we'll make a trial fair,"
When they reach the garden wall,
The fledgling shouts--"Look there--
How big and nice! I call
That fruit, indeed--no trash."
Reader, it was a yellow calabash.

* * * * *

It may not much surprise
That young birds by chaff are caught;
But that, by men reputed wise,
Books should, for bulk, be bought,
And valued for their size,
Is stranger, is it not?
If a good work, 'tis great of course;
If bad, the more there is the worse.