The Goldfinch

May 13, 2019 2 Comments

When dandelions star the fields
Another alien singer, I,
Nursed upon England’s flowery wealds,
Seeking no tithe of treasured yields,
dropp sudden from a summer sky
To where the spangled clearing spills
Its gold about your timbered hills.



A mite in splendid motley clad,
I mark the field, I know the hour
When choicest morsels may be had;
When blooms are gay, when days are glad,
And thistledown wafts in a shower
To dance and drift and disappear,
I, who was not, am with you here.



I cling beside the thistle head,
I dance about your cattle’s feet,
I revel in the banquet spread
By many a blazing yellow bed,
And feast until I am replete;
Then seek the house roof’s topmost tile
To linger yet a little while.



No ingrate I, no niggard churl 
Tho’ what I take you well may spare 
Ere azure skies have grown to pearl,
With many a grace-note, many a skirl,
I pay gold coin for golden fare,
And profer an abundant fee
In long sweet bursts of melody. 


Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis(7 September 1876 – 22 June 1938 / Auburn, South Australia)

friderikeheuer@gmail.com

2 Comments

  1. Reply

    Nicky

    May 13, 2019

    Sweet!

  2. Reply

    Martha Ullman West

    May 13, 2019

    Gorgeous photos, which speak entirely for themselves. Many thanks.

LEAVE A COMMENT

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

RELATED POST