Andrew Young, the Scots-born-and-educated poet cleric, loved birds and wrote of them with originality and affection. Here are three of his little pieces.

THE BIRD

The blackbird darted through the boughs

Trailing his whistle in a shrill dispute

‘Why do you loiter near our house?’

But I was mute,

Though as he perched with sidelong head

I might have said,

‘I never notice nests or lovers

In hedges or in covers;

I have enough to do

In my own way to be unnoticed too.’

THE MISSEL-THRUSH

That missel-thrush

Scorns to alight on a low bush,

And as he flies

And tree-top after tree-top tries,

His shadow flits

And harmlessly on tree-truck hits.

~

Shutting his wings

He sways and sings and sways and sings,

And from his bough

As in deep water he looks through

He sees me there

Crawl at the bottom of the air.

THE NEST

Four blue stones in this thrush’s nest

I leave, content to make the best

Of turquoise, lapis lazuli

Or for that matter of the whole blue sky.