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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A MIGRANT THRUSH, by MARY RUSSELL BARTLETT
First Line: For one rare moment on a naked spray
Last Line: Which stranger keeps a holy song within.
Subject(s): Birds; Thrushes; Wellesley College
First Line: For one rare moment on a naked spray
Last Line: Which stranger keeps a holy song within.
Subject(s): Birds; Thrushes; Wellesley College
FOR one rare moment on a naked spray,
With your dead-oak-leaf tail and spotted breast,
Little brown pilgrim on your sun-led quest
I saw you loitering in the northward way.
The song with which you flood the dying day
When you have found your mate and sheltered nest
In some far woodland I had never guessed
From your still presence. Yet a shining ray
Of light and hope has set my heart aglow
Only because I have seen the hermit thrush.
What joy could one but win the power to know
In passing through the human stress and din,
By some sure sign, some sudden inward hush,
Which stranger keeps a holy song within.
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