The Thrush's Nest

Within a thick and spreading hawthorn bush
That overhung a molehill large and round,
I heard from morn to morn a merry thrush
Sing hymns to sunrise, and I drank the sound
With joy; and often, an intruding guest,
I watched her secret toil from day to day -
How true she warped the moss to form a nest,
And modelled it within with wood and clay;
And by and by, like heath-bells gilt with dew,
There lay her shining eggs, as bright as flowers,
Ink-spotted over shells of greeny blue;
And there I witnessed, in the sunny hours,
A brood of nature's minstrels chirp and fly,
Glad as the sunshine and the laughing sky.

by John Clare

Comments (2)

I have just set this beautiful poem to music for choir and flute
The poem is a sonnet of fourteen lines. It tells us how the poet is soo inquisitive to know what the bird is doing and how he peeps into the nest to find out the secrets of the bird the discreption of the eggs and the babies flying away joyfully makes us feel that we ourselves witnessing the birds secret activities. By theiva.