Parrots

Whenever a parrot looks at me,

I feel all strange and shivery,

For, oh, a parrot's bead-bright eyes

Are keen as wizard's and as wise,

And when they turn and stare at you,

You feel as if they somehow knew

The things you keep all tucked away

Inside yourself and never say.

They stare and shine, and shine and stare,

And you must stand before them there

And feel there's nothing in your mind

A wise old parrot couldn't find.