This poem is taken from PN Review 21, Volume 8 Number 1, September - October 1981.
The Grasshopper WarblerSurely it was the grasshopper warbler
In the cork-oaks on the hillsides under cover
Making a sound like pebbles struck together,
And not to be confused with the cicada.
He resolved to look for it next morning
And left a piece of paper in the bird book marking
The page, but all the day it kept on raining,
And once he thought he'd left the pan on frying.
...
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