The solo of the nightingale, her sweet extravaganza,
might well be launched in tedium, telling of neglect,
just as your garden-robin, chirping so engagingly
upon the spade - here to stake a claim for tenancy --
...
I have been fond of grey since finding Whistler's
Mother, grey with a modest black and white ...
a chastity in Quaker terms. Winds
that freak the blossom over greening slabs
...
I celebrate the drawing-in of days,
a dowsing of the sunlight,
early camouflage of going home, or
of not going home,
...
Birdsong
The solo of the nightingale, her sweet extravaganza,
might well be launched in tedium, telling of neglect,
just as your garden-robin, chirping so engagingly
upon the spade - here to stake a claim for tenancy --
would peck the naive daylight out of sentimental eyes.