The dawn chorus of singing birds inspires New Forest Today reader Roy Hobbs
It’s 5am it’s quiet and dark,
it’s early morning spring.
I sit and wait beneath the trees
for waking birds to sing.
The time so slowly passes by
and in the early hour
I smell the fragrance of the dawn
fresh from last night’s shower.
A shade of grey creeps o’er the sky,
up springs a cool damp breeze
To gently stir in the sleeping birds,
nestling in the trees.
Ah there it is: reward at last,
a blackbird’s first clear notes,
As from the branch its morning song
through all the woodland floats.
Another blackbird wakes and sings,
still yet another: then,
A chaffinch, robin and a thrush
and tiny Jenny Wren.
Then suddenly the waking throng
all sing with sheer delight
To herald in the creeping dawn
and chase away the night.
The cuckoo now is wide awake
and pigeons start to coo,
And over there upon the lake
the geese are stirring too.
The pheasant calls a shrill alarm
as rabbits scuttle by
There’s silhouettes of crawing rooks,
ungainly in the sky.
The sounds are there for all to hear,
Old Nature’s sweet free gift,
The sounds that never, never fail
to give your heart a lift.
To every man I say, “Get up,
go out one clear spring morn
And taste the everlasting thrill:
the chorus of the dawn."
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