Scottish Poetry Selection
- The Thrush

Walter Wingate has some sympathy for the thrush whose song is not perhaps as perfect as the blackbird - but is more than worthy, nevertheless.

The Thrush

I heard a thrush repeat, repeat,
The phrases of his joyous song,
And every note was sweet,
Yet nothing pleased him long;
But like a baffled poet seemed the bird
That seeks and cannot find the one desirèd word.

And mingled with his broken verse
I heard a blackbird far away,
In fainter tone rehearse
His pæn to the day;
A sonnet, that amendment would but mar,
Inspired, inevitable, perfect as a star.

Yet sing, sweet thrush, and never spare,
The lyric warmest at thy heart,
And leave to colder care
The aftertouch of art;
For eve delighted waits from every side
The very strains that leave thyself unsatisfied!

Return to the Index of Walter Wingate Poems or the General Index of Scottish Poetry

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