When I was a Bird

Katherine Mansfield 1888 (Wellington) – 1923 (Fontainebleau, Île-de-France)



I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
And hadn't any words, but got sad at the end.
There were daisies in the grass under the tree.
I said just to try them:
"I'll bite off your heads and give them to my little
          children to eat."
But they didn't believe I was a bird;
They stayed quite open.
The sky was like a blue nest with white feathers
And the sun was the mother bird keeping it warm.
That's what my song said: though it hadn't any words.
Little Brother came up the patch, wheeling his barrow.
I made my dress into wings and kept very quiet.
Then when he was quite near I said:  "Sweet, sweet!"
For a moment he looked quite startled;
Then he said:  "Pooh, you're not a bird; I can see
          your legs."
But the daisies didn't really matter,
And Little Brother didn't really matter;
I felt just like a bird.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 27, 2023

56 sec read
97

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCDEAFGHIJCKLMNHOAPQQI
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 905
Words 182
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 23

Katherine Mansfield

Katherine Mansfield Beauchamp Murry was a prominent modernist writer of short fiction who was born and brought up in colonial New Zealand and wrote under the pen name of Katherine Mansfield. more…

All Katherine Mansfield poems | Katherine Mansfield Books

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