Sparrows

Little birds sit on the telegraph wires,
   And chitter, and flitter, and fold their wings;
Maybe they think that, for them and their sires,
   Stretched always, on purpose, those wonderful strings:
And, perhaps, the Thought that the world inspires,
   Did plan for the birds, among other things.

Little birds sit on the slender lines,
   And the news of the world runs under their feet,--
How value rises, and how declines,
   How kings with their armies in battle meet,--
And, all the while, ‘mid the soundless signs,
   They chirp their small gossipings, foolish sweet.

Little things light on the lines of our lives,--
   Hopes, and joys, and acts of to-day,--
And we think that for these the Lord contrives,
   Nor catch what the hidden lightnings say.
Yet, from end to end, His meaning arrives,
   And His word runs underneath, all the way.

Is life only wires and lightning, then,
   Apart from that which about it clings?
Are the thoughts, and the works, and the prayers of men
   Only sparrows that light on God's telegraph strings,
Holding a moment, and gone again?
   Nay; He planned for the birds, with the larger things.


--Adeline Dutton Train Whitney (1824-1906) American author and poet