The Cuckoo Bee

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately owlet, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched on my remote control.
Perched there in the dirty window, just on my remote control,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then I gave him a little hug.