Poets observe

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
A sparrow that sings,
A wasp's whisp'ring wings,
The brown leaves now few,
Light thrown on the dew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
Green ivy that clings,
The sharp nettle stings,
The foxgloves that grew,
White seagulls that flew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
The silver bell rings,
The joy morning brings.
Black crows in a yew,
The way the wind blew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
Now pulling some strings
And transforming things,
But does it ring true?
Well, that's up to you!