Eleanor Farjeon

The White Blackbirds

Among the stripped and sooty twigs of the wild cherry tree
Sometimes they flit and swing as though two blossoms of the Spring
Had quickened on these bleak October branches suddenly.

They are like fairy birds flown down from skies which no one knows,
Their pointed yellow bills are bright as April daffodils,
Their plumy whiteness heavenly as January snows.

Loveliest guests that choose our garden-plot for loitering!
Oh, what a sudden flower of joy is set upon the hour
When in their cherry cages two white blackbirds sit and swing.