Misery and Comfort

On snow-frozen branches the pink-breasted Cardinal hasn't heeded the alarm, and steadily shivering, has lost warmth and feeling; I stretch out left and right arm and wrap him in a scarf of wool, suddenly he feels no shivers! Under my roof painted in white, the House Sparrow is safe and cheerful away from wind, sleet, frost, and snow: her day visitations are delightful; I heard them warbling near the cemetery, they were arguing about where to go; then they separated and all was quite: the male was rude, the female sappy. Birds and humans have feelings, and we resemble them a lot; a few seek misery, others comfort: who has been one of these and not felt the disparage, or the absence of courage? Can birds break down in tears, and grieve until the hurt leaves?