On Hearing A Blackbird

The morning is quite overcast 'twould seem that rain is near
And on the mirror bush tree the blackbird I see and hear
His song can't be mistaken I often heard it years ago
In Spring when his kind were singing in woodland and on hedgerow,
The whistling of the blackbird stir the nostalgic memories
of that old wood by a far off hill in the freshening morning breeze
When the hawthorns looked resplendent in their white flowers of the May
And the nesting birds were whistling and singing all the day,
The boy has left the old fields but the memories with him stay
Of his first lessons in Nature in the woodlands far away
The wildflowers in their billions amongst the lush grass to be seen
And by the leafy hedgerow and the ditch of the bohreen
And the singing of the blackbird takes me to the past again
And though what was is gone forever the memories of it remain.