Sunday, 21 March 2021

Proud Songsters

National Poetry Day is in October, but that's too long to wait to share this wonderful poem of Spring. It's one of my favourites by one of my favourite poets, Thomas Hardy. (Such a favourite that I've edited my own anthology of his poetry, should you be interested). And I know this is technically a poem of April, and it's still March. But it is, at last, Spring. The birds have started singing. And it's #WorldPoetryDay today. And that's what matters...

Proud Songsters

The thrushes sing as the sun is going,

And the finches whistle in ones and pairs,

And as it gets dark loud nightingales

In bushes

Pipe, as they can when April wears,

As if all Time were theirs.

These are brand new birds of twelvemonths’ growing,

Which a year ago, or less than twain,

No finches were, nor nightingales,

Nor thrushes,

But only particles of grain,

And earth, and air, and rain.

Hardy's birthplace, Lower Bockhampton, Dorset

To read more by Thomas Hardy, I can't do better than recommend you start here:

And to hear this poem read, and read beautifully, click here:

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