A Literary Interlude

I can't for the life of me remember where I came across the following poem, but it has been rattling around in my head for years. One might expect that the poet who could fit such an abundance of birds so tidily in a scarce four lines had dedicated a lifetime to perfecting his art. In fact, though Edward Thomas did earn his living as a prose writer, he only turned to poetry in the very last years of his life.

This poem is one of those cases where the "picture is worth a thousand words" saw is stood upon its head. No matter how luminous the picture, it would have been lacking without the invisible blackbirds.