Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE YELLOWHAMMER'S SONG, by WILLIAM SHARP


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE YELLOWHAMMER'S SONG, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Out on the waste, a little lonely bird, I flit and I sing
Last Line: Ah, sweet! The song that I sing.
Alternate Author Name(s): Macleod, Fiona
Subject(s): Birds; Morning; Singing & Singers


Out on the waste, a little lonely bird, I flit
and I sing;
My breast is yellow as sunshine, and light
as the wind my wing.

The golden gorse me shelters, in the tufted
grass is my nest,
And Sweet, sweet, sweet the world, though
the wind blow east or west.

The harebells chime their music, the canna
floats white in the breeze:
But as for me, I flit to and fro and I sing at
my ease.

When the thyme is dripping with dew, and
the hill-wind beareth along
The pungent scent of the gale, loudly I sing
my morning song.

When the sun beats on the gorse, the broom,
and the budding heather,
I flit from spray to spray, and my
the golden weather.

When the moor-fowl sink to their rest, and
the sky is soft rose-red,
I sing of the crescent moon and the single
star overhead.

Out on the waste, out on the waste, I flit
all day as I sing,
Sweet, sweet, sweet is the world -- dear world --
how beautiful everything!

Only a little lonely bird that loveth the
moorland waste,
And little perhaps of the joy of the world
is that which I taste;

But out on the wild, free moorlands or the
gold gorse-boughs I swing,
And Sweet, sweet, sweet the world; oh, sweet!
ah, sweet! the song that I sing.





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