THE BIRD MAN
TO ERIC DICKINSON
I DREAD the parrots of the summer sun,
The harsh and blazing screams of July noon,
A riot of jays and peacocks and macaws.
There is some presage of big ardours due
Even in the pale flamingoes of the dawn;
While golden pheasants and hoopoes of the West
Burn fierce and proudly still, when he has set.
Better the winter wagtails of pied skies,
Cold ospreys of the north, cormorants of squall,
Brown wrens of rain, white silent owls of snow,
And bitterns of great clouds that in October
Sweep from the west at evening. Lovelier still
The night’s black swans, the daws of starless night
(Daw-like to hide what’s shiny), plovers and gulls
Of winds that cry on autumn afternoons....
These every one I love: but above these
Rarest of all my birds, I dearly love
The blue and silver herons of the moon.