THE blackbirds sing so sweetly in the morning; They are building a nest yonder in the hedgerow, where I pass at sunrise: and I think their song is sweeter then than else at any time of day. I take care not to disturb them: they work as hard as anybody for their living. And I think they know me now, they are that bold. But they do not follow in the furrow, like the wagtails and robins; they seem to hang to the grass-lands. It is pleasant then, in the morning: the air is so sweet. And the smell of the earth—and I like the warm smell of the horses. Jeannie goes in the furrow, and Rob on the fallow: they go very steady; And when the ground is soft-like, it's good enough going, but when it's stiff it stretches your arms a bit: Lord! it does make you sweat! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEA GODS: 3 by HILDA DOOLITTLE EPITAPH ON HIMSELF by MATTHEW PRIOR THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD by WALTER RALEIGH IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 124 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE VAICES THAT BE GONE by WILLIAM BARNES |