We had a tragedy last evening of a Lark flying into a window and not surviving. Things are tough enough for our feathered friends without windows. I thought of that Lawrence poem or snipet:
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself"
or the Shakespeare
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise!
I gather that birds know what we think - that they are to us sources of inspiration, sights of beauty and sounds of amiable or not so amiable conversation. We watch them, mimic them and spent centuries and billions trying to fly like them. Now if we could do something about the "self pity" part things would be much better.
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"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself"
or the Shakespeare
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise!
I gather that birds know what we think - that they are to us sources of inspiration, sights of beauty and sounds of amiable or not so amiable conversation. We watch them, mimic them and spent centuries and billions trying to fly like them. Now if we could do something about the "self pity" part things would be much better.
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