looks back without self-pity to youthful happiness and a particularly special day in May.To its credit, the poem doesn't divulge why the day was so wonderful. [Sara] Teasdale keeps her eye precisely focused on the countryside of her St Louis birthplace. There's even a twinkle of wistful humour. Those migrant finches, the redbirds, are certainly handsome, but their song, apparently, consists of "chicky chucky chuck".
from Carol Rumens: The Guardian: Books blog: Poem of the week: Redbirds by Sara Teasdale
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