Sparrows of Sunday

Sparrows are tiny playmates to me since my childhood days. I used to run behind them. I had only one wish, I wanted to catch one sparrow and kiss it. But could never kiss. Now I am grown up. I don't run behind them. But I keep clicking them whenever I fiddle with my camera.

The Sparrow

by Paul Laurence Dunbar

A LITTLE bird, with plumage brown,

Beside my window flutters down,

A moment chirps its little strain,

Then taps upon my window-pane,

And chirps again, and hops along,

To call my notice to its song;

But I work on, nor heed its lay,

Till, in neglect, it flies away.

So birds of peace and hope and love

Come fluttering earthward from above,

To settle on life's window-sills,

And ease our load of earthly ills;

But we, in traffic's rush and din

Too deep engaged to let them in,

With deadened heart and sense plod on,

Nor know our loss till they are gone.

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