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Poem by Thomas Hardy The Robin When up aloft I fly and fly, I see in pools The shining sky, And a happy bird Am I, am I! When I descend Towards their brink I stand, and look, And stoop, and drink, And bathe my wings, And chink and prink. When winter frost Makes earth as steel I search and search But find no meal, And most unhappy Then I feel. But when it lasts, And snows still fall, I get to feel No grief at all, For I turn to a cold stiff Feathery ball! Thomas Hardy Thomas Hardy's other poems:
Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1493 Views |
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