That perches in the valley -

And sings the tune without the breathe -

And never stops - at all -

And quick - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little bike

That kept so many zooming -

I’ve heard it in the rocky land -

And on the strangest path -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.