I Saved This One Nabokov
Alas! poor fallen king
with golden head and strip'ed wing!
"Perhaps I can stay this regicide!"
So swiftly, I took the thing inside.
No foul play, or political coup
were culprit for what almost slew,
that avian prince. Victim of the rather plain,
attacked by nothing but my windowpane.
For some time I kept him warm,
a loving fire lit inside my dorm.
How bittersweet it was to see
the king alive, fly away from me.
But ever since he left my door,
I like to think that evermore,
that death dodging king, happy as can be,
sings all day of love and life, safely from a tree.
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