The Song of the Thrush

Stir..chirrup, rise and fall
of the whistling wind
eucalyptus and the poplars tall
all listen to the thrush sing.
As the song rises and fall
soothing the discerning ear
beyond the austere duty's call
on a sunny morning clear.
Beyond the grass and the velvet green
on the boughs burdened with spring,
a hidden note in lines between
in my mind with care rings.
I see you through, I hear you not
I am still your pet
of all the wealth that I have got,
it's you that I covet.