Tuesday Poem: “Sonnet on the Author’s Birthday” by Robert Burns
SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,
See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.
So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear,
Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart;
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.
I thank thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—
What wealth could never give nor take away!
Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high heav’n bestow’d, that mite with thee I’ll share.
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by Robert Burns, 1759-1796
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Tis not in fact the author’s birthday, but the birthday of the author’s blog—yes, indeed-y, “…on Anything, Really” is one year old today and so today’s Tuesday Poem will be sharing that auspicious date of May 31 with a special blog’s birthday post. But since I’ve been officially part of the Tuesday Poem blog since 8 June last year, there was no way I was going to miss a day: not for anything. So here we are, a birthday poem by Rabbie Burns for the birthday of the blog. 🙂
(And yes, you are quite right to hear echoes/overtones to Ursula Le Guin’s short fiction collection The Birthday of the World.)
Oh—and on the blog’s special birthday post, there are going to be giveaways. 😉
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To read the featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Blog hub—and to link to other Tuesday Poets posting around the world—either click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.