The Darkling (Varied) Thrush 221216 -01
One of a flock of at least three Varied Thrush (Ixoreus naevius) visiting Belmont Park, Kelowna, BC.
It made me think of a poem I read in high school well over half a century ago. It didn't resonate with me then, but it does now.
And while the 'darkling thrush' of Hardy's poem sings a completely different song, its sudden appearance in my world had a similar effect. I've spread the verses out across three images — of which none is of the quality I wish it were, yet somehow seems to fit the context:
The Darkling Thrush
byThomas Hardy
I leant upon an coppice [iron] gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems [branches] scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.
The Darkling (Varied) Thrush 221216 -01
One of a flock of at least three Varied Thrush (Ixoreus naevius) visiting Belmont Park, Kelowna, BC.
It made me think of a poem I read in high school well over half a century ago. It didn't resonate with me then, but it does now.
And while the 'darkling thrush' of Hardy's poem sings a completely different song, its sudden appearance in my world had a similar effect. I've spread the verses out across three images — of which none is of the quality I wish it were, yet somehow seems to fit the context:
The Darkling Thrush
byThomas Hardy
I leant upon an coppice [iron] gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems [branches] scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.