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180506 Blue tit

Oh, how I long to quit the throng
Of human forms and faces:
The vain delights, the empty shows,
The toil and care bewild’rin’,
To feel once more the sweet repose
Calm Nature gives her children.
At times the thrush shall sing, and hush
The twitt’ring yellow-hammer;
The blackbird fluster from the bush
With panic-stricken clamour;
The finch in thistles hide from sight,
And snap the seeds and toss ’em;
The blue-tit hop, with pert delight,
About the crab-tree blossom;

~   extract from the poem ‘Letter From The Town Mouse To The Country Mouse’, Horace Smith (1779-1849), English poet and novelist