The Nightingale And The Sparrow

: Literary Fables Of Yriarte

A Nightingale her voice one day was tuning

In notes to match an organ's sonorous swell;

When by her cage a chattering Sparrow roaming

Stopped--his surprise at her attempt to tell.

"I marvel much, that such strange pains you take;

That you, who sing so sweetly and so well,

Your imitators, thus, your models make;

For sure, the notes the organ's pipes that swell,
It owes to imitation of your song."

"Nevertheless," replies the Nightingale,--

"Though it had learned of me, I would not fail

From it, in turn, instruction to derive.

And you will see the good results ere long.

To imitate my native bursts it sought;

I wish my untutored strains to modify

By the deep rules of science it has taught.

And thus, good sir, you see, that by and by,

My natural talent will by education thrive."

* * * * *

Has the caprice some learned fancy crossed,

That hours to study given are labor lost?

Who wisest is, will ever study most.