Poem of the month
Selected by David Underdown who also writes the commentary.
The Blackcap
by John Clare
Under the twigs the blackcap hangs in vain
With snow-white patch streaked over either eye.
This way and that he turns, and peeps again
As wont where silk-cased insects used to lie,
But summer leaves are gone: the day is bye
For happy holidays, and now he fares
But cloudy like the weather, yet to view
He flirts a happy wing and inly wears
Content in gleaning what the orchard spares,
And like his little couzin capped in blue
Domesticates the lonely winter through
In homestead plots and gardens, where he wears
Familiar pertness – yet but seldom comes
With the tame robin to the door for crumbs.
