The Shrike Thrush Who Whistles That Beautiful Air Poem by Francis Duggan

The shrike thrush who whistles that beautiful air
One would think he is one who does not have a care
It is not out of sheer joy that he bursts into song
But to warn his own kind this acre to him belong
With a mate and young and borders to defend
At this time of year he trusts none as a friend
Of the ways of birds little I seem to know
But the wonders of Nature on me seem to grow
And though her secrets from us Nature does hide away
From her we do learn something new every day
He sings at all times of day 'til sunset from daybreak
And his beautiful whistling one should not mistake
But 'tis not for the joys of life or of Summer or Spring
But to defend his borders the grey shrike thrush sing.