On Hearing A Grey Shrike Thrush Piping Poem by Francis Duggan

The grey shrike thrush pipes in the wood over there
And as a songster of Nature few with him compare
His music is carrying in the evening breeze
That soughs in the leaves of the young and old trees
A memory to cherish and for to recall
Of this beautiful evening in March in the Fall
The song of the shrike thrush melodious and clear
A gift of Mother Nature and pleasant to hear
A beautiful end to a near perfect day
In back and wings of brown and in unders of gray,
The grey shrike thrush is piping his beautiful song
You hear him once and you cannot get him wrong
The song of the shrike thrush with me will remain
And tomorrow in fancy I'll hear him again.