Thursday, January 8, 2009

Dove Song

I heard a dove sing or say
His homely tale this very day;
His voice was buried among the trees,
Yet to be come at by the breeze;
He did not cease, but cooed and cooed;
And somewhat pensively he wooed;
He sang of love with quiet blending,
Slow to begin and never ending;
Of serious faith and inward glee;
That was the song—the song for me!

--William Wordsworth


Joanne said...

Beautiful poem with the bird of peace. The rhythm is melodic, just like the dove's call. There's so much here, including the reference to faith, making nature the cathedral. Thanks for sharing this today.

Peggy said...

I love your comments, Joanne! :) This poem used to make me feel lonely, but this morning when I ran across it, it made me feel peaceful. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.

Anonymous said...

Ms. Peggy,

A delightful poem by the most excellent William Wordsworth. My sincerest gratitudes for sharing such.

I am, &c.
Colonel Brandon.
Nature Diary

Sherri said...

My goodness, it has been such a long time since I have read that poem. I love the picture you chose to illustrate your blog entry. It perfectly reflects the peace underlying his words. Thanks!

Jan said...

Thanks for sharing this glimpse of beauty with us.
Winter Blessings to you...

Bdogs said...

I love the photo--he's or she's so puffed up in her feathers, like her own inflatable down jacket. Lovely marriage of pic and poem.

julie king said...

what a nice poem and photo. i must confess that we are not feeding the birds this winter and i miss tem, especially the birds.

Peggy said...

Julie, we've had so much snow this year in West Michigan that I'm sure our feathered friends rely heavily on our generosity. But between trying to remember to feed them and the fact that they eat like locusts, I fear I fall down in my efforts in this deparment, as well! Is it my imagination that the birds seem to sing more sweetly at a feeder that's full of seed?