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55
TO A THRUSH SINGING MADLY
I'm getting old, delirious bird,
I'm getting old and grey,
But still I echo every word
Of all the words you say.
The planet beaming with a girl
So feather-fine as she
Upon the lilac is the pearl
Of planets? I agree.
I'm getting old and grey,
But still I echo every word
Of all the words you say.
The planet beaming with a girl
So feather-fine as she
Upon the lilac is the pearl
Of planets? I agree.
I'm getting old, delirious thrush.
My back is not so straight
As when I often used to rush
To leap the five-barred gate
That meant a nearer way to Nance,
Whose eyes and lips were mine
When days were roses of romance
And air itself was wine.
My back is not so straight
As when I often used to rush
To leap the five-barred gate
That meant a nearer way to Nance,
Whose eyes and lips were mine
When days were roses of romance
And air itself was wine.
I'm getting old, delirious bird,
I'm getting old and slow;
Yet April thanked me when she heard
My heartbeat long ago!
The little patch of reverend white
To-day above my ears
Is less than nothing in the light
Of all my dimpled years.
I'm getting old and slow;
Yet April thanked me when she heard
My heartbeat long ago!
56
To-day above my ears
Is less than nothing in the light
Of all my dimpled years.
'Tis time will play some other tricks
Before my final bed,
And make me, with a pair of sticks,
A human quadruped.
So be it. I shall crawl along
My few untrodden miles,
In love with thrushes for their song,
And Memory for her smiles.
Before my final bed,
And make me, with a pair of sticks,
A human quadruped.
So be it. I shall crawl along
My few untrodden miles,
In love with thrushes for their song,
And Memory for her smiles.
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