"One Crow Sorrow, Two Crows Joy
Three crows a Letter, Four crows Boy
Five Crows silver, Six crows Gold
Seven crows a secret never to be told."
SONNET: THE CROW
How peaceable it seems for lonely men
To see a crow fly in the thin blue sky
Over the woods and fealds, o'er level fen
It speaks of villages, or cottage nigh
Behind the neighbouring woods--when march winds high
Tear off the branches of the huge old oak
I love to see these chimney sweeps sail by
And hear them o'er the knarled forest croak
Then sosh askew from the hid woodmans stroke
That in the woods their daily labours ply
I love the sooty crow nor would provoke
Its march day exercises of croaking joy
I love to see it sailing to and fro
While feelds and woods and waters spread below.
"Ideas won't keep; something must be done about them."