Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ROBIN IN HAWTHORN by JOHN FREEMAN

First Line: THE ROBIN FLAUNTS HIS TAWNY BOSOM
Last Line: ON THE BONES OF WINTER.
Subject(s): ROBINS; SEASONS;
THE Robin flaunts his tawny bosom
Amid the smouldering Autumn thorn
Long after the last corn
Is carted, and new ridges shine
With late rain dabbled.

The Robin—other birds are shriller
In these withdrawing hours,
And other sweetness pours
From the sun's frugal shine
Through lengthening lattice.

But Robin—thou art the bird that faces
Death's rugged nodding brow.
Thy song, that lights us now,
Less brave is than thy breast that blazes
On the bones of Winter.



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