The thrushes sing as the sun is going,
And the finches whistle in ones and pairs,
And as it gets dark loud nightinglates
Pipe, as they can when April wears,
As if all Time where theirs.
These are brand-new birds of twelve months' growing,
Which a year ago, or less than twain,
No finches were, nor nightingales,
But only particles of grain,
And earth, and air, and rain.
Thomas Hardy, The Complete Poems, Macmillan, 1976, p. 835-36
I love watching birds and the only thing I regret about changing my office from it's old room is that no birds yet use the bird bath. In my old office, I could look out the window and see different birds throughout the day - magpies, currawongs, little wrens and honey-eaters and the occasional rosella. Despite The Accountant putting together a decent bird bath on the other side of the house - and despite sightings from my window of a very attractive larger honey-eater and rosella, not to mention little wrens, they have yet to bathe. But what I love about this Hardy poem is those last two wonderful lines.
After contemplating the long and prolific career of Hardy, hop over to the Tuesday Poem blog and sample this week's featured poem. Tuesday poems are freshly baked each Tuesday and you can read a delicious selection by clicking on the blog roll. Bon appétit!