The Poetry Corner

A Bird's Anger

By William Henry Davies

A summer's morning that has but one voice; Five hundred stocks, like golden lovers, lean Their heads together, in their quiet way, And but one bird sings, of a number seen. It is the lark, that louder, louder sings, As though but this one thought possessed his mind: 'You silent robin, blackbird, thrush, and finch, I'll sing enough for all you lazy kind!' And when I hear him at this daring task, 'Peace, little bird,' I say, 'and take some rest; Stop that wild, screaming fire of angry song, Before it makes a coffin of your nest.'