Nature: Goldfinch

Today a beautiful, little goldfinch visited me outside the bathroom window. He even was kind enough to wait for me to fetch my camera so I could gently capture his image through the screen.

From John Keats' "I Stood Tip-Toe Upon a Little Hill" (1817)

Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek:
Then off at once, as in a wanton freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.
Were I in such a place, I sure should pray
That nought less sweet, might call my thoughts away.
Than the soft rustle of a maiden's gown
Fanning away the dandelion's down;
Than the light music of her nimble toes
Patting against the sorrel as she goes.
How she would start, and blush, thus to be caught
Playing in all her innocence of thought. (5. 27-40)

You can read the entire poem here if you wish.