Poem by Thomas Hardy

I Watched a Blackbird

I watched a blackbird on a budding sycamore
One Easter Day, when sap was stirring twigs to the core;
I saw his tongue, and crocus-coloured bill
Parting and closing as he turned his trill;
Then he flew down, seized on a stem of hay,
And upped to where his building scheme was under way,
As if so sure a nest were never shaped on spray.

1. The End of the Episode
2. Barthelemon at Vauxhall
3. The Month’s Calendar
4. Revulsion
5. At Waking

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