I went outside tonight,
To the birds I could hear,
Singing in the evening air.
And I saw a blackbird,
On the topmost of a small tree,
Quivering on the end of his song
Like a rag on the end of a pole.
But for me there was not flight across the bounds of thought:
The bird stayed with his song
And I was thrown –
Chilled by the air in which
It so much delighted.