I look up and see the nest,
A bird busy sewing it in time,
Am shocked and amazed as I rest,
Who taught it all these chimes?

See now its chicks might or might not,
Yet they are not insensitive nor lame,
They open their beaks in wit,
Waiting for food grains that tame.

There is this thing of the mode of the light,
Wherever I go the sun rays are same,
The state of warmth one can’t resist,
Always the sun does retain its name.

Bees how they manufacture honey so sweet,
Have no hands nor stove to cook in the comb,
So amazing is its brain this little insect,
And far too determined to their game.

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