Category Archives: Poems and Nursery Rhymes about birds

FOR THE FRUITS OF HIS CREATION HYMN

For the fruits of his creation
thanks be to God;
for his gifts to ev’ry nation,
thanks be to God;
for the ploughing, sowing, reaping,
silent growth while we are sleeping,
future needs in earth’s safe-keeping,
thanks be to God.

In the just reward of labour,
God’s will is done;
in the help we give our neighbour,
God’s will is done;
in our world-wide task of caring
for the hundry and despairing,
in the harvests we are sharing,
God’s will is done.

For the harvests of his Spirit,
thanks be to God;
for the good we all inherit,
thanks be to God;
for the wonders that astound us,
for the truths that still confound us,
most of all that love has found us,
thanks be to God.
Fred Pratt Green (b.1903)

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THINK OF A WORLD WITHOUT ANY FLOWERS
Think of a world
without any flowers,
think of a world
without any trees,
think if a sky
without any sunshine,
think of the air
without any breeze.
We thank you Lord,
for flowers and trees and sunshine,
we thank you, Lord,
and praise your holy name.

2.
Think of a world
without any animals,
think of a field
without any herd,
think of a stream
without any fishes,
think of a dawn
without any bird.
We thank you, Lord,
for all your living creatures,
we thank you, Lord,
and praise your holy name.

3.
Think of a world
without any people,
think of a street
with no-one living there,
think of a town
without any houses,
no-one to love
and nobody to care.
We thank you Lord,
for families and friendships,
we thank you, Lord,
and praise your holy name.

Doreen Newport (b. 1927)

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WE PLOUGH THE FIELDS AND SCATTER
We plough the fields and scatter
the good seed on the land,
but it is fed and watered
by God’s almighty hand;
he sends the snow in winter,
the warmth to swell the grain,
the breezes and the sunshine,
and soft refreshing rain.

All good gifts around us
are sent from heav’n above;
then thank the Lord,
O thank the Lord,
for all his love.

He only is the maker
of all things near and far;
he paints the wayside flower,
he lights the evening star;
he fills the earth with beauty,
by him the birds are fed;
much more to us, his children,
he gives our daily bread.

3.
We thank thee then, O Father,
for all things bright and good;
the seed time and the harvest,
our life, our health, our food.
Accept the gifts we offer
for all thy love imparts,
and what thou most desirest,
our humble, thankful hearts.

Mathias Claudius (1740-1815)
trans. Jane Montgomery Campbell (1817 – 1878) alt

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There was then another hymn. This was one verse. I don’t know if I can put this hymn on Bird Table News. The title was – YOU SHALL GO OUT WITH JOY

There was clapping as well as singing in this Hymn. We sang it three times and each time we were asked to clap and sing louder. Adult voices mingled with childrens voices.

Birds were mentioned in this hymn as well.

WE PLOUGH THE FIELDS AND SCATTER HYMN

WE PLOUGH THE FIELDS AND SCATTER

 
We plough the fields and scatter
the good seed on the land,
but it is fed and watered
by God’s almighty hand;
he sends the snow in winter,
the warmth to swell the grain,
the breezes and the sunshine,
and soft refreshing rain.

All good gifts around us
are sent from heav’n above;
then thank the Lord,
O thank the Lord,
for all his love.

He only is the maker
of all things near and far;
he paints the wayside flower,
he lights the evening star;
he fills the earth with beauty,
by him the birds are fed;
much more to us, his children,
he gives our daily bread.

3.
We thank thee then, O Father,
for all things bright and good;
the seed time and the harvest,
our life, our health, our food.
Accept the gifts we offer
for all thy love imparts,
and what thou most desirest,
our humble, thankful hearts.

Mathias Claudius (1740-1815)
trans. Jane Montgomery Campbell (1817 – 1878) alt

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he fills the earth with beauty, by him the birds are fed;

My Law – Tiemi Ranapiri

 I could not resist this poem.  I used half the other day.  Below is the complete poem

My Law – Tieme Ranapire.  It is attributed to a Maori.  

The sun may be clouded, yet ever the sun
Will sweep on its course till the Cycle is run
And when into chaos the system is hurled
Again shall the Builder reshape a new world.

Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal,
Move on – for your orbit is fixed to your soul
And though it may lead into darkness of night
The torch of the Builder shall give it new light.

You were, you will be! Know this while you are:
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar
It came from the Source, to the source it returns –
The Spark which was lighted eternally burns.

It slept in a jewel.  It leapt in a wave
It roamed in the forest.  It rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years
And now in the soul of yourself it appears.

From body to body your spirit speeds on
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone
And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
On the loom of the Mind from the fibre of Thought

As dew is drawn upward, in rain to descent
Your thoughts drift away and in Destiny blend.
You cannot escape them, for petty or great
Or evil or noble, they fashion your Fate.

Somewhere on some planet, sometime and somehow
Your life will reflect your thoughts of your NOW!
My Law is unerring, no blood can atone.
The structure you built you will live in alone.

From cycle to cycle, through time and through space
Your lives with your longings will ever keep pace
And all that you ask for, and all you desire
Must come at your bidding, as flame out of fire.

Once list’ to that Voice and all tumult is done –
Your life is the life of the Infinite One.
In the hurrying race you are conscious of pause
With love for the purpose, and love for the Cause.

You are your own Devil, you are your own God.
You fashioned the paths your footsteps have trod.
And no-one can save you from Error or sin,
Until you  have hark’d to the Spirit within.

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I think my favourite piece is about our spirit.  It says the Spirit – 

It slept in a jewel.  It leapt in a wave
It roamed in the forest.  It rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years
And now in the soul of yourself it appears.

From body to body your spirit speeds on
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone
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It talks about ‘strange garbs’ and ‘ new forms’. 

Very interesting poem.  Do you like it?  Do you have a favourite piece?

Could I return as a bird?

The sun may be clouded, yet ever the sun
Will sweep on its course till the Cycle is run
And when into chaos the system is hurled
Again shall the Builder reshape a new world.

Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal,
Move on – for your orbit is fixed to your soul
And though it may lead into darkness of night
The torch of the Builder shall give it new light.

You were, you will be! Know this while you are:
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar
It came from the Source, to the source it returns –
The Spark which was lighted eternally burns.

It slept in a jewel.  It leapt in a wave
It roamed in the forest.  It rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years
And now in the soul of yourself it appears.

From body to body your spirit speeds on
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone

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To be continued

This is called MY LAW it is attributed to have been written by a Maori

LITTLE THINGS

LITTLE THINGS

Dear Father, hear and bless
Thy beasts and singing birds,
And guard with tenderness
Small things that have no words

Anonymous

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Little things that run and quail
and die in silence and despair;

Little things that fight and fail
and fall on sea and earth and air;

All trapped and frightened little things,
The mouse, the coney, hear our prayer:

As we forgive those done to us,
The lamb, the linnet, and the hare,

Forgive us all our trespasses,
Little creatures everywhere

James Stephens

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Aren’t these two poems / prayers lovely?

A river flows on through the vale of Cheapside

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud – it has sung for three years.
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the bird.

‘Tis a note of enchantment: what ails her?  She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees:
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.

Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove’s,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.

She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all passed away from her eyes.

 

REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN – Wordsworth 1770-1850

I think this poem paints a picture of how birds  can connect us to nature.  

If  you have any poems / nursery rhymes about birds drop me a comment

The Breeze by Ernie Teal

THE BREEZE
Gently the breeze plays with the blossom of the cherry trees,
spilling the petals and disturbing the bees,
caressing the beeches and rippling the corn,
carrying messages of another dawn.

 

A blackbird awakening fluted his song!
But alas his greeting was not for long!
A sparowhawk up aloft that morn and
keen to feed her newly born,
clutched the chorister from his bower.

 

To the songster had come at this early hour,
a death as swift as that hawk in flight:
more would die ‘ere day turned night.
For nature is ever red in tooth and claw.
He who made all things decreed it so.

 

The feathers of the innocent fluttered down,
covering the earth in a chastening gown.
That gentle breeze played with them
as it passed by
with a whisper, or was it a sigh.
Ernie Teal

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Ernie is on Radio Humberside on a Sunday morning and I heard him read this poem. 

I asked him for a copy of it and he kindly sent it to me.

Ernie knows such a lot about the countryside, about animals, birds and he also has a rich store of memories. 

Thanks Ernie for sending me this.

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I do agree that  it is natural for birds of prey to attack.  I think the problem comes when the number of birds of prey becomes so high that it puts songbirds at risk.  What do you think – if you have time please let me know.

The darkling thrush

I  leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware

The Darkling Thrush
Thomas Hardy

This poem shows how one ordinary bird can affect a person. It paints a picture of a desolate, cold landscape and out of that landscape comes something that cannot be understood. Why should an old, frail thrush on a freezing night (when surely food was short) sing a joyful song? Answer unknown.

 
 
 
 
 

 

Bird Alchemy

Alchemy

Since suns have set
and oceans rolled
mankind has sought,
so we are told,
star-locked secrets
to unfold
that magic which
turns base to gold.

 

Pale sorcerers,
Magicians wise,
weird wizards
scanning orbs and skies,
are searching for
that precious prize,
but looking through
unseeing eyes.

 

When sunbeams warm
the sleeping Earth,
and blackbird sings
for all he’s worth
to welcome Spring,
proclaim the birth
Of beauty, hope
and joy and mirth.

 

When gold adorns
bright shrub and tree,
and buttercups grow
wild and free,
spreading far
as eye can see….
that’s Alchemy enough
for me.

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I’d love to know who wrote this poem.  I’ve had it for ages.

Go on – tell me which you think is best NATURE or GOLD! 

Then ask your friends the same question by sharing  this poem –

Nursery Rhymes, Poems and Prayers about birds

I thought it would be a good idea to put some nursery rhymes and also poems and prayers  about birds together.   Here they are some nursery rhymes

LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST
Little Robin Redbreast
Came to visit me
This is what he whistled,
Thank you for my tea.

Pit, pat, well-a-day,
Little Robin flew away.
Where can little Robin be:
Gone into the cherry tree.

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BIRDS OF THE AIR
A wise old owl sat in an oak,
The more he heard the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard
Why aren’t we like that wise old bird

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THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW
The North Wind doth blow
And we shall have snow,
And what will the poor Robin do then?
Poor thing.
He’ll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing.

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THERE WERE TWO BIRDS SAT ON A STONE
There were two birds sat on a stone, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de:
One flew away and then there was one,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;
The other flew after, and then there was none,
Fa, la, la, la, lal, de;
And so the poor stone was left all alone, Fa, la, la, la, lal, de.

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I SAW A SHIP A SAILING
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea,
And oh, but it was laden
With pretty things for thee!

There were comfits in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were all of gold.

The four-and-twenty sailors,
That stood between the decks,
Were four and twenty white mice
With chains about their necks.

The captain was a duck
With a packet on his back,
And when the ship began to move
The captain said, Quack, Quack!

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GOOSEY, GOOSEY, GANDER
Goosey, goosey gander,
Whither shall I wander?
Upstairs and downstairs
And in my lady’s chamber.
There I met an old man
Who would not say his prayers
I took him by the left leg
And threw him down the stairs.

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Here is a comment from someone from abroad.  It’s a nice little nursery rhymn.-

Hi Trisha,
There’s a comic somg about a Jay Bird – we used to sing it in Guides with actions:

Way down south not very far off
A jay bird died of the whooping cough
He whooped so hard with the whooping cough
That he whooped his tail and his feathers right off!

It’s sung over and over a few times (sitting on all fours) getting faster and faster and everytime whooping is sung you throw your arms in the air!

very impressed with your site!

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I’d love to hear of any more nursery rhymns or poems about birds.

 

Trisha