This leaning tree with ivy overhung (excerpt)

That blackbirds music from the hazel bower
Turns into golden drops this summer shower
To think the rain that wets his sutty wing
Should wake the gushes of his soul to sing
Hark at the melody how rich and loud
Like daylight breaking through the morning cloud
How luscious through that sea of green it floats
Knowest thou of music breathed from sweeter notes
Than that wild minstrel of the summer shower
Breathes at this moment from that hazel bower
To me the anthem of a thousand tongues
Were poor and idle to the simple songs
To that high toned and edifying bird
That sings to nature by itself unheard.

John Clare’s Birds
ed. Eric Robinson & Richard Fitter
Oxford University Press 1982

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