Why come within the temple, little preacher,
To break the sanctities with noisy bill?
Art here not as a learner, but a teacher?
Speaks Heaven in notes so dissonant and shrill?

We listen to the deeply labour'd sermon,
And hearts applaud — though heads as many nod —
Half-comprehend, but nothing well determine:
Thy startling chirr up takes us straight to God.

For thou from long-strain'd art dost nothing borrow;
The same shrill notes, at first in Eden given,
Come through the centuries, making thee, poor sparrow,
The more immediate minister of Heaven.