Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE THRUSH, by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE THRUSH, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I'll pay my rent in music,' said a thrush
Last Line: That helps to fit him for the choir of heaven.
Subject(s): Birds; Thrushes


"I'LL pay my rent in music," said a thrush
Who took his lodging 'neath my eaves in spring,
Where the thick foliage droop'd. -- And well he kept
His simple contract. -- Not for quarter-day
He coldly waited, -- nor a draft requir'd
To stir his memory, -- nor my patience tir'd
With changeful currencies, -- but every morn
Brought me good notes at par, and broke my sleep
With the wild ringing of his tuneful coin.
Often, at summer morn, a burst of song
Melodious trilling thro' his dulcet pipes
Falling and caught again, and still prolong'd,
Betray'd in what green nook the warbler sat,
Each feather quivering from excess of joy,
While from his open beak and brightening eye
I seem'd to read the assurance, -- "this was pour'd
For your especial benefit." -- The lay
With overpowering shrillness, -- more than once
Did summon me to lay my book aside
And wait its close; nor was that pause a loss,
But seem'd to tune and shape the inward ear
To wisdom's key-tone.
Then I had my share
In softer songs, that cheer'd his brooding mate
Who in the patience of good hope, did keep
Her lengthen'd vigil. And the voice of love
That flow'd so fondly from his bursting soul,
Made glad mine own.
At length, there came a strain
From blended throats, that to their callow young,
Breath'd tenderness untold; and the weak chirp,
Of new-born choristers, so deftly train'd
Each in the sweet way that he ought to go,
Mix'd with that breath of household charities
Which makes the spirit strong. And so I felt
My debt was fully paid, and deem'd myself
Most fortunate, in these our days to find
Such honest tenant.
But when autumn bade
The northern birds to spread their parting wing,
And that small house was vacant, -- and o'er hedge,
And russet grove, and forest grey with years
The hush of silence settled, -- I grew sad
To miss my kind musician, and was fain
To patronize with a more fervent zeal
Such fire-side music, as makes winter short,
And storms unheard.
Yet leave within our hearts,
Sweet melodists, -- the spirit of your praise,
Until ye come again, and the brown nest
That now its downy lining to the winds
Turns desolate, shall thrill at your return
With the loud welcome home. --
For he who touch'd
Your breasts with minstrelsy, and every flower
With beauty, hath a lesson for his sons
In all the varied garniture that decks
Life's banquet-board; -- and he's the wisest guest
Who taketh gladly what his God doth send,
Keeping each instrument of joy, in tune,
That helps to fit him for the choir of Heaven.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net