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.