The Robin is the One
By Mike • March 14, 2007 • 3 commentsNew York still languishes on the icier edge of the Ides of March, but flocks of eager American Robins have sprung up around the muddy fields of my neighborhood with an alacrity that even a crocus could envy. Though we tire of robins once less commonplace birds appear, these birds herald blessed spring. I was so moved by the sight of these thrushes that I searched for a poem that might evoke the gladness of the moment. The European Robin (Erithacus rubecula) has inspired some splendid poems throughout history, even a few involving the onset of spring cheer. Perhaps you are as unsurprised as I that none Perhaps you are as surprised as I that one of the great poets has been moved to verse by our trusty Turdus migratorius. Admirers of avian odes will always find a kindred spirit in Emily Dickinson, who seems to have a suitable sonnet for any bird-related occasion, including this one. (Thanks to Enchilada for a much-needed lesson in literature!)
The Robin is the One
The robin is the one
That interrupts the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.The robin is the one
That overflows the noon
With her cherubic quantity,
An April but begun.The robin is the one
That speechless from her nest
Submits that home and certainty
And sanctity are best.
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“Perhaps you are as unsurprised as I that none of the great poets have been moved to verse by our trusty Turdus migratorius.” Don’t quite get this comment, since you follow it with a poem by Emily Dickinson, one of America’s two greatest poets (Whitman being the other IMHO) about what would of necessity be about the American robin. Quibbling aside, however, it always good to see her work and it’s certainly an excellent choice!
Sometimes I’m actually as dumb as I look. I’d hardly call your correction of my blatant error “quibbling,” Enchilada. Of course Emily Dickinson is American. I appreciate the save and have adjusted my intro accordingly.
On a related note, I’d place Poe above Whitman, but that’s just my taste.
[...] I was sitting at my office desk the other day and I blew my nose. (Love those Puffs!) A couple of hours afterward, I got up and went to the bathroom to pee. Along the way I passed several people and of course had to stop and chat for a bit. Upon arrival at the bathroom, I looked into the mirror and saw a string of snot that had dried to a crust upon my nose. Part of it was still going up into my nostril like an earthworm trying to escape the wrath of a hungry Robin. [...]