The Carrier

(To J. K.)

A poor little messenger clad in gray, Sent as a go-between--they say. Took a betrayal under its wing And guarded and cherished the slimy thing.

We speak of Glory, and Trust, and Men, But that is all forgotten when We send this softly feathered bird With messages best left unheard.

Oh! What a mockery ’cross the sky The dove is sent to act as spy.