Lyre­birds

Isis Town and Country - - Opinion - By JU­DITH WRIGHT

Over the west side of the

moun­tain, that’s lyre­bird coun­try. I could go down there, they say, in the early

morn­ing, and I’d see them, I’d hear

them. Ten years, and I have never

gone. I’ll never go. I’ll never see the lyre­birds – the few, the shy, the

fab­u­lous, the dy­ing po­ets. I should see them, if I lay

there in the dew: first a sin­gle move­ment like

a wa­ter­drop fall­ing, then still­ness, then a brown head, brown eyes, a splen­did bird, bear­ing like a crest the

sym­bol of his art, the high sym­met­ri­cal shape

of the per­fect lyre. I should hear that mas­ter

prac­tis­ing his art. No, I have never gone. Some things ought to be left

se­cret, alone; some things – birds like walk­ing fa­bles – ought to in­habit nowhere but the rev­er­ence of the heart.

EARTH’S AN­SWER by Wil­liam Blake

Earth raised up her head. From the dark­ness dread &

drear, Her light fled: Stony dread! And her locks cover’d with

grey de­spair. Prison'd on watery shore Starry Jeal­ousy does keep

my den Cold and hoar Weep­ing o’er I hear the fa­ther of the

an­cient men Self­ish fa­ther of men Cruel jeal­ous self­ish fear Can de­light Chain’d in night The vir­gins of youth and

morn­ing bear. Does spring hide its joy When buds and blos­soms

grow? Does the sower? Sow by night? Or the plough­man in

dark­ness plough? Break this heavy chain. That does freeze my bones

around Self­ish! vain!Eter­nal bane! That free Love with

bondage bound.

LOVE’S SE­CRET by Wil­liam Blake

Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gen­tle wind doth

move Si­lently, in­vis­i­bly.I told my

love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trem­bling, cold, in ghastly

fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon af­ter she was gone

from me, A trav­eller came by, Si­lently, in­vis­i­bly: He took her with a sigh.

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